He waited a moment, grieved for her, half-vexed with her—then had his answer and was faced with emotions as sudden and unexpected as when a moment before, without premeditation, he had her struggling in his arms.
She drew a deep breath and answered him. "That is it—in fun!" she said. She threw out her arms across her raised knees—the palms upward, the fingers curved in a most desolate action. "In fun!" she said intensely. "I would to God—I would to God thou hadst done it in passion."
He came in front of her. "Tell me what it is I have done to you," he said firmly.
The intensity went from her voice. She spoke then and thenceforward very softly, as if she were making explanation to a child, and in her answer she used again the term that went with the days of the "thee" and "thou" now returned to her.
"Used me," she answered him softly, "used me as any wanton is to be used, little master."
He cried, "Ima! After all these years we have known each other—a kiss in fun!"
But she went on: "What maids are kissed in fun? That a man weds does he use so? That the sisters of such as thou art does he so use? That give him cause for regard does he so use? What maids, then?" and answered herself, "Such as I am!"
"Oh!" he cried, wounded with pity for her, "Oh, Ima—Ima, dear, don't talk like that. What can you mean? I am sorry—sorry! Forgive me!"
Her sad eyes almost smiled at him. "I have nothing to forgive thee," she said. "It was but a foolish fancy that I had. Well that it should be broken—ended that;" and she looked again across the dark bracken, her arms extended upon her knees in that desolate pose.
It wrung him with pity—his dear Ima! "But tell me!" he pressed her, anxious to soothe her. "Tell me what you mean by fancy—by saying 'ended that!'"