"Hold fast!" said Winston, with a trace of hoarseness. "You are sure
you feel quite steady?"
"Of course!" said the girl, with a little laugh, though she recognized
the anxiety in his voice, and felt his hand close almost cruelly on her
own. She was by no means timorous, and still less fanciful, but when
they moved out into the blackness that closed about them above and
beneath along the slender strip of swaying timber she was glad of the
masterful grip. It seemed in some strange fashion portentous, for she
felt that she would once more be willing to brave unseen perils, secure
only in his guidance. What he felt she did not know, and was sensible
of an almost overwhelming curiosity, until when at last well-stiffened
timber lay beneath them, she contrived to drop a glove just where the
moonlight smote the bridge. Winston stooped, and his face was clear in
the silvery light when he rose again. Maud Barrington saw the relief
in it, and compelled by some influence stood still looking at him with
a little glow behind the smile in her eyes. A good deal was revealed
to both of them in that instant, but the man dare not admit it, and was
master of himself.
"Yes," he said, very simply, "I am glad you are across."
Maud Barrington laughed. "I scarcely fancy the risk was very great,
but tell me about the bridge," she said. "You are living beside it?"
"Yes," said Winston. "In a tent. I must have it finished before
harvest, you see!"
The girl understood why this was necessary, but deciding that she had
on other occasions ventured sufficiently far with that topic, moved on
across the bridge.
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