Brian flushed a little.
"It is hard to receive compliments gracefully," he said, and at that she also colored, but laughed, her eyes still on his.
"There, give grace to my rude tongue, Brian! Of course you meant it—but why?"
"Because there is no woman like you, Nuala—so able to weld men into union, so vibrant with inner power, and yet so womanly withal. It is no little honor to have known you, to have—"
"I wish you would tell me your name, Yellow Brian!"
There was woman's cunning in the placing of that answer, and it took Brian all aback. For a moment he was near to blurting out his whole story; then he took shame for letting a girl's face so run away with him. None the less, he knew well that it was her heart as well as her face, and her spirit as well as her heart, that had captured him; yet, because he had had no dealings with women since leaving Spain some months before, he told himself that if the Bird Daughter had other women near by to compare herself with, less attraction might be found in her.
But he did not pause long upon that thought, sweeping his blue eyes to hers in a smile.
"If you had been a man, Nuala, you had never had fealty from me."
"So—then it was pity?" and swift anger leaped into her face.
"Was it pity that drove Cathbarr to proffer his life for mine?" parried Brian, his eyes grave. He felt a great impulse to speak out all that was in him, but crushed it down. Her eyes met his, and held there for a long moment. Then she spoke very calmly: