"I knew you wouldn't."
Then a silence fell between them.She had ceased to lean against him, and he missed the cosy friendliness of it.Now that their voices and the cawings of the rooks had ceased, there was nothing heard but the dry rustle of the leaves, and the plaintive cry of a buzzard hawk hunting over the little tor across the river.There were nearly always two up there, quartering the sky.To the boy it was lovely, that silence--like Nature talking to you--Nature always talked in silences.The beasts, the birds, the insects, only really showed themselves when you were still; you had to be awfully quiet, too, for flowers and plants, otherwise you couldn't see the real jolly separate life there was in them.Even the boulders down there, that old Godden thought had been washed up by the Flood, never showed you what queer shapes they had, and let you feel close to them, unless you were thinking of nothing else.Sylvia, after all, was better in that way than he had expected.She could keep quiet (he had thought girls hopeless); she was gentle, and it was rather jolly to watch her.Through the leaves there came the faint far tinkle of the tea-bell.
She said: "We must get down."
It was much too jolly to go in, really.But if she wanted her tea--girls always wanted tea! And, twisting the cord carefully round the branch, he began to superintend her descent.About to follow, he heard her cry:
"Oh, Mark! I'm stuck--I'm stuck! I can't reach it with my foot!
I'm swinging!" And he saw that she WAS swinging by her hands and the cord.
"Let go; drop on to the branch below--the cord'll hold you straight till you grab the trunk."Her voice mounted piteously:
"I can't--I really can't--I should slip!"He tied the cord, and slithered hastily to the branch below her;then, bracing himself against the trunk, he clutched her round the waist and knees; but the taut cord held her up, and she would not come to anchor.He could not hold her and untie the cord, which was fast round her waist.If he let her go with one hand, and got out his knife, he would never be able to cut and hold her at the same time.For a moment he thought he had better climb up again and slack off the cord, but he could see by her face that she was getting frightened; he could feel it by the quivering of her body.
"If I heave you up," he said, "can you get hold again above?" And, without waiting for an answer, he heaved.She caught hold frantically.
"Hold on just for a second."
She did not answer, but he saw that her face had gone very white.
He snatched out his knife and cut the cord.She clung just for that moment, then came loose into his arms, and he hauled her to him against the trunk.Safe there, she buried her face on his shoulder.He began to murmur to her and smooth her softly, with quite a feeling of its being his business to smooth her like this, to protect her.He knew she was crying, but she let no sound escape, and he was very careful not to show that he knew, for fear she should feel ashamed.He wondered if he ought to kiss her.At last he did, on the top of her head, very gently.Then she put up her face and said she was a beast.And he kissed her again on an eyebrow.
After that she seemed all right, and very gingerly they descended to the ground, where shadows were beginning to lengthen over the fern and the sun to slant into their eyes.