"You needn't be afraid," she said in a dreary, colourless voice, "since now I am always getting out of his way. There is left a little pride in me yet. I can't bring such disgrace on my father. But every day I cry because I can't see him."
"Well, I am satisfied! After all we know what each other means. And now, when will it be, this wedding of ours?"
He tried to speak gaily, poor Perrin, but it was sad work. He succeeded at last in persuading her to agree to be married on Christmas Day: and then, fearful that she would change her mind, he said he would take her home at once, for it was getting late.
As they descended the hill and crossed the bay, Perrin pointed out the gleaming of a light on Lihou, an islet within a stone's throw of Guernsey.
"It seems that Le Mierre is living there just now to work at the iodine. His wife is with him. She is very delicate, it would appear, and not very happy, poor pretty Blaisette!"
"Does he beat her?"
"So people say. I can believe anything bad of Le Mierre."
"It is not surprising. How bad I must be to love such a man! Perrin, why didn't God let me—make me, love you instead?"
Was this sad gentle voice in reality Ellenor's? Was this nestling hand hers? Did it really creep through his arm?
"My girl, we must not dictate to God about what He does! I confess I don't understand half He lets happen to us. But I couldn't question it."