“And they went on and left you lying in the highway?”
“They went on.”
“The wicked lass! Oh the wicked, heartless lass!”
“You are not able to judge her, Christina.”
“But you can judge Braelands. Get a warrant for the scoundrel the morn. He is without the law.”
“Then I would make Sophy the common talk, far and near. How could I wrong Sophy to right myself?”
“But the whip lash! the whip lash! Andrew. You cannot thole the like of that!”
“There was One tholed for me the lash and the buffet, and answer’d never a word. I can thole the lash for Sophy’s sake. A poor love I would have for Sophy, if I put my own pride before her good name. If I get help ‘from beyond,’ I can thole the lash, Christina.”
He was white through all the tan of wind, and sea, and sun; and the sweat of his suffering stood in great beads on his pallid face and brow. Christina lifted a towel, which she had just ironed, and wiped it away; and he said feebly;—
“Thank you, dear lass! I will go to my bed a wee.”