“I came only to see you.”
“Well, then, I sent not for you.”
“Yet I thought you would wish to see me.”
“I do not.”
“Liot Borson is dead.”
“I am glad of it. He was a murderer while he lived, and now I hope that he is a soul in pain forevermore.”
“I am his son, and you must not–”
“Then what brought you here? I have hoped you were dead for many a year. If all the Borsons, root and branch, were gone to their father the devil, it would be a pleasure to me. I have ever hated them; to all who knew them they were bringers of bad luck,” she muttered angrily, looking into David’s face with eyes full of baleful fire.
“Yet is love stronger than hate, and because my mother was of your blood and kin I will not hate you.”
“Hear a wonder!” she screamed. “The man will not hate me. Son of a murderer, I want not one kind thought from you.”