"They bade me keep Nell Wayne, and let thee take thy chance," said Nicholas presently. "Think of it, Janet! To wake in the morning and have no slip of sunshine like thyself to come down to."
"Grandfather, it—it hurts me to hear you praise me so."
"Why, what ails thee? Cannot I praise the one thing on God's earth that I love, without hurting thee?"
Yes, she must tell him all. All the way up it had been borne in on her that she would let the deceit go no further. She owed no less than frankness to him, and he should have it, though afterward he struck her to the ground. They were alone with the sky and the wind; the hour, the dim-lying spaces of the moor, encouraged confidence. She had chosen her road—but at least she would start fair on it, honest as the man who had her love in keeping. Quietly, without shrinking or appeal, she told him all—how she used to meet Shameless Wayne by stealth, how she had given him warning, how, lastly, she had to-night ridden down to Marsh and surrendered herself into Wayne's hands.
The Lean Man was very quiet when she had finished, and not till they were skirting the dull ooze of Wildwater pool did he break silence. "I had rather have shovelled the earth above thy dead body, girl," he said, checking his horse at the brink.
She watched his face working fantastically as he stared into the water. Mechanically she traced the scars of fire, the lump of discoloured flesh that marked where his right ear had been shorn level with the cheek; and she told herself that Wayne of Marsh was answerable for both. His anger, gathering slowly, was terrible to meet.
"What is't to thee that my heart is broken?" he went on. "I could set finger and thumb to thy throat, girl, but would that heal my own hurts? The care I've given thee, the constant thought—womanish thought—the way I shamed myself by opening to thee all my secret fears." He laughed drily. "Barguest? Methinks thou hast killed him, lass, with a worse sickness. Hark ye! This shall not be. I've sap in my veins yet, and I'll cheat thee of thy lover before I die."
"Sir, is this the love you have for me? What has Wayne ever done that you should not cry 'peace' and let our marriage staunch the feud?"
"What has he done? He has fooled me, beaten me in fight, robbed me of more than life. Is that naught, or must I fawn on him and thank him for good service rendered in wedding Janet Ratcliffe? Thou hast heard of Sad Man's Luck, girl? It comes to those who have lost all, and it nerves them to strange deeds."
He moved forward, Janet following; and as they waited for the gates to be thrown open, he gave the low, hard laugh which never yet had boded good to man or woman.