“Well, I must risk what she can do——”
“Even though you know not how much that may be?”
“Even then.”
There was another pause.
“When do you purpose going?” asked Joan, suddenly.
“Ah, that I may not tell you.”
“You trust me not, sir? You think I would betray you into the hands of them that would do you harm?”
“Nay, I do not say that. I do not think that. But, as you keep your own counsel where these smugglers are concerned, so do I think it best to keep mine own.”
Joan bowed her head proudly, as if in assent. But she was not at her ease; she glanced at him quickly, and he saw that there were tears in her dark eyes, whether of mortification, of sympathy, or of some other feeling, he could not tell.
As they stood silent, he looking at her, and she turning towards the ivy-hung window, the voice of the vicar startled them both, as he called—