"Ratcliffe—yes. He lives in a great drear house above Wildwater Pool, and once—nay, I cannot recall, 'tis so long ago; but I think he was cruel to me when I went to seek my lover. And to-day he stopped me as I tried to pass him by."
Wayne finished rubbing down his horse, then turned quietly. "What said he?" he asked.
"Ned, don't look so stern! It frightens me. And thy voice is hard, too, as it was when I heard thee bid them throw the vault-stone down."
"There are matters that make a man hard, little bairn. Was Nicholas Ratcliffe cruel to you?"
"Oh, so cruel," she said, shivering. "He looked through and through me, Ned, and laughed as I never heard any one laugh before, and asked me where I had found shelter. And when I told him he laughed again, and said that soon there would be none at Marsh to give me shelter. And then——"
"Aye—and then?"
"He—he told me all that he meant to do to thee, Ned; and when I tried to run away he held me by the arm, and hurt me—see! I carry the marks of it."
She lifted her sleeve and held out her arm to him; and he nodded gravely as he saw the red finger-prints clear marked in red upon the dainty flesh.
"He hates thee, Ned," she went on. "Why should he hate thee? I seem to have heard something—nay, it has gone!—what has he against thee, dear?"
Shameless Wayne laughed grimly. "Less than I have against him, bairn. God, could he make sport of such as you?"