"My dear girl," went on the fisherman's even voice, "what are you doing here?"
"I've been hiding, there's an hour, from Dominic Le Mierre. Ah, it is no use, I must tell you all, for you never scold me and look black at me, like all the rest do. I said I wouldn't meet him now he's married, but the more I keep out of his way, the more it seems he finds me out."
"Then you don't care for him no more, like all Torteval said you did?"
"Care for him! Care! I love him with all my soul!"
"And him such a black character, and a smuggler! There's times and times I've seen him again to the cliffs with queer fellows; and others have seen him, too. But nobody likes to give him up to the constables, except me, and I've settled it that I'll tell what he is after. He deserves it, the way he treats you. And it will be a fine way of disgracing him. I'll risk that he'll bewitch me."
A dead silence followed his words. Then Ellenor's hand stole into his, and Ellenor's voice said softly,
"Perrin, is it you love me yet?"
He lifted her hand and kissed it.
"I love you better than even my mother. I love you next best to God."
"And yet, Perrin, I am not a good girl."