The terror of her position overcame her; a deathly faintness seized her.
She saw it all; she knew why this man dared. She realized the loneliness and desolation of her position, poor child that she was. Every cabin near her filled with warmth and cheer and comfort, and she friendless and alone! Not a woman near but had the strong arm of husband or brother to help and defend her. The very boats in the harbor, with their beacon-lights aloft, protected and safe. Only she in danger; only she unguarded, waylaid, open to insult, even by a man like this.
She stood shivering, looking into his cowardly face. Then rousing herself to her peril, she sprang toward the road. In an instant the man had seized her wrist. She felt his hot breath on her face.
“Oh, come now, none of that! Say, why ain’t I as good as Bill Lacey? Give me a kiss.”
“Let me go! Let me go! How dare you!” she cried, struggling in his grasp. When she found his strength gaining on her, she screamed.
Hardly had she made her outcry, when from behind the fish-house a man with a flowing beard darted into the shadows, flung himself on Betty’s assailant, and dragged him out under the glare of the street lamp. The girl fled up the road without looking behind.
“That’s what ye’re up to, is it, Mr. Carleton?” said the man, holding the other with the grip of a steel vise. “I ’spected as much when I see ye passin’ my place. Damn ye! If it warn’t that it would be worse for her, I’d kill ye!”
Every muscle in the speaker’s body was tense with anger. Carleton’s head was bent back, his face livid from the pressure of his assailant’s fingers twisted about his throat.
The man slowly relaxed his hold. “Ain’t she got trouble ’nough without havin’ a skunk like you a-runnin’ foul o’ her?”
Carleton made a quick gesture as if to spring aside and run. The diver saw the movement and stepped in front of him.