She promised as much last week, when I fell
into Wilverley bog, and yet she knows that I cannot abide
needle-work."
Alleyne, still standing in the stream, glanced down at the
graceful pink-and-white figure, the curve of raven-black hair,
and the proud, sensitive face which looked up frankly and
confidingly at his own.
"We had best on," he said. "He may yet overtake us."
"Not so. We are well off his land now, nor can he tell in this
great wood which way we have taken. But you--you had him at your
mercy. Why did you not kill him?"
"Kill him! My brother!"
"And why not?"--with a quick gleam of her white teeth. "He would
have killed you. I know him, and I read it in his eyes. Had I
had your staff I would have tried--aye, and done it, too." She
shook her clenched white hand as she spoke, and her lips
tightened ominously.
"I am already sad in heart for what I have done," said he,
sitting down on the bank, and sinking his face into his hands.
"God help me!--all that is worst in me seemed to come uppermost.
Another instant, and I had smitten him: the son of my own mother,
the man whom I have longed to take to my heart.
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