He felt he must leave Ethne; never look again upon her face—he would return to the Christians. And then the dreadful thought came that he himself had offered unto Baal—he was unclean! He wished to leave Ethne, yet she still attracted him and there was a new and horrible tie between them.
Then weakly he began to excuse her to himself. If she believed, as she said, did it not make her crimes the less? Why should he think of fleeing from her presence—was he not worse than she? He, who called himself a Christian!
She had dismounted and had thrown her bridle over her arm. Almost unconsciously they moved forward on the marshy bridle-path before them.
“We have sinned,” said Cormac. “But my sin is greater than yours.”
The Druidess looked at him with the same expression of scorn and wonder that she had shown before. After a time she said:
“Some day—not now—I will tell you the message that the diviners unfolded to me.”
Cormac only answered by a gesture of horror.
“We have all our work to begin over again,” said Ethne. “You have lost your horse—and by your foolish flight you have scattered the warriors we had gathered about us! You are clad in sheepskin like a serf, or a Christian hermit!”
Cormac stood still.
“Ethne,” he cried, “I cannot go on—I cannot, and I will not, continue this unholy work!”