He took a step or two backward from her.
"You are over-eager to leave, it seems to me," said the girl in an injured tone.

"I wonder that you came at all." John's heart was singing hosanna.
He, however, maintained his voice at a mournful pitch and said: "I must go.

I can no longer endure to remain." While he spoke he moved toward his horse, and his head was bowed with real shame as he thought of the pitiable fool he had made of himself.

Dorothy saw him going from her, and she called to him softly and reluctantly, "John." He did not hear her, or perhaps he thought best to pretend that he did not hear, and as he moved from her the girl became desperate.

Modesty, resentment, insulted womanhood and injured pride were all swept away by the stream of her mighty love, and she cried again, this time without hesitancy or reluctance, "John, John." She started to run toward him, but my cloak was in her way, and the sword tripped her feet.