“I know it well,” was the brief reply.
“And if you go by Burnane the rocks are slippy with the rain, and the path to the shore is full of danger.”
“If I was afeard of danger, would I be here?” cried she. “Oh, Miss Mary,” added she, stopping and grasping her hand in both her own, “leave me to myself; don't come with me,—it's not one like you ought to keep me company.”
“But Joan,—dear Joan,—I have promised to be your friend, and I am not one who forgets a pledge.”
“My heart will break; it will break in two if you talk to me. Leave me, for the love of Heaven, and let me go my road all alone. There, at the two trees there, is the way to Cro' Martin; take it, and may the Saints guide you safe home!”
“And if I do, Joan, will you promise me to come straight back to Cro' Martin after you 've seen him? Will you do this?”
“I will,—I will,” cried she, bathing Mary's hand with her tears as she kissed it.
“Then God bless and protect you, poor girl!” said Mary. “It is not for me to dictate to your own full heart. Goodbye,—good-bye.”
Before Mary had dried the warm tears that rose to her eyes, Joan was gone.