Haward made after it and caught it.
"Child!" he cried.

"Where are the others ?" The child had struggled for a moment, desperately if weakly, but at the sound of his voice she lay still in his grasp, with her eyes upon his face.

In the moonlight each could see the other quite plainly.

Raising her in his arms, Haward bore her to the brink of the stream, laved her face and chafed the small, cold hands.
"Now tell me, Audrey," he said at last.

"Audrey is your name, isn't it?
Cry, if you like, child, but try to tell me." Audrey did not cry.