But it was not so much her danger that set me thinking then as the reason which must lie behind the accusation. Who could have been devilish enough to set such a brand upon her; and why? Did she know her reputation? There must have been some black work somewhere to account for the plight to which such a girl had thus been reduced.
High-born and gently nurtured she certainly was; accustomed to command and to be obeyed, as she had given abundant proofs; endowed with beauty and grace far beyond the average of her sex; and with innocence and purity stamped on every feature and manifesting itself in every act! Great enough to have powerful enemies, probably, I guessed; and in that I looked to find the key to the problem.
I was in the midst of these somewhat rambling thoughts when the casement was pushed open gently.
“Is it you, Burgwan?”
“Yes, it is.”
“What are you doing there?” I was beginning to listen now for the little note of command in her voice.
“I am on watch.”
“I have turned you from your cottage.” This was half apologetic: followed directly by the other tone. “You will be well paid.”
“Thank you.” It was no use protesting. It seemed to please her to feel that she could repay me for any trouble; and it did no harm to humour her.
“The storm is over. Can we not start?”