Suddenly, like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky, she felt a stinging blow across her cheek. Her head rang with it. Her eyes were dazzled with dancing stars. Through a haze she saw Rupert standing over her with fists clenched and eyes that flamed.
"Tibbott Venner, thou little thief!" he choked. "Give me that ring."
From where she had fallen upon her elbow Merrylips stared up at him.
"But, Rupert," she said, "'tis mine! 'Tis mine own ring."
"Thou dost lie!" he cried. "I could ha' forgiven thee aught else. But to serve me such a turn—when I had cared for thee, well as I knew! I gave thee the last o' the bread and the milk—all of it I gave thee, because thou wast little. And then thou—thou lying little trickster! I vow I'll beat thee for't!"
Still Merrylips looked at him steadily.
"Thou art strong. Thou canst do it," she whispered.
Rupert lifted his clenched fist, but he let it fall as he met her eyes. He did not strike her. Instead he bent and snatched at the ring, where it hung about her neck. So fiercely did he snatch that he broke the cord and brought the ring away in his hand.
"Shift for thyself now!" he flung the words at her. "I'll bear wi' thee no longer, thou liar! thou thief! And to do't while I slept and trusted thee!"
Still Merrylips said not a word. Dumb and wide-eyed, she sat with her hand to her throbbing cheek, while she watched Rupert turn and stride away along the brookside. She watched till he had passed out of sight, and the branches that he had thrust aside no longer stirred.