She folded her knitting, stood up and walked away without another word.
Ortho arose also. She had had him there. Not such a fool after all, and she had dimpled when she made that sally—just a wink of a dimple, but entrancing. He had a suspicion she had been laughing at him, knew who he was all the time, else why had she called him “Squire”?
By the Lord, laughing at him, was she? That was a new sensation for the local hero. He flushed with anger. Blast the girl! But she was a damned handsome piece for all that. He watched her through a peep-hole in the rocks, watched her cross the neck of land, pass the earth ramparts of the Luddra’s prehistoric inhabitants and turn left-handed along the coast path. Then, when she was committed to her direction, he made after her as fast as he was capable. Despite his wound he was capable of considerable speed, but the girl set him all the pace he needed.
She was no featherweight, but she skipped and ran along the craggy path as lightly as a hind. Ortho labored in the rear, grunting in admiration.
Catch her he could not; it was all he could do to keep her in sight. Where a small stream went down to the sea through a tangle of thorn and bramble she gave him the slip.
He missed the path altogether, went up to his knees in a bog hole and got his smart white trousers in a mess. Ten minutes it took him to work through that tangle, and when he came out on the far side there was no sign of the girl. He cursed her, damned himself for a fool, swore he was going back—and limped on. She must live close at hand; he’d try ahead for another mile and then give it up.
Within half a mile he came upon Roswarva standing among its stunted sycamores.
He limped up to the door and rapped it with his stick. Simeon Penaluna came out. Ortho greeted him with warmth; but lately back from foreign parts he thought he really must come and see how his good neighbor was faring. Simeon was surprised; it was the first time the elder Penhale had been to the house. This sudden solicitude for his welfare was unlooked for.
He said he was not doing as badly as he might be and asked the visitor in.
The visitor accepted, would just sit down for a moment or two and rest a bit . . . his wounds, you know. . . .