A flurry of footsteps came up out of the dark; some one raced by them toward the house.
“We’re out here,” called Miles, rising. “What’s wanted?”
“Oh!” The runner stopped, and returned panting. “I’ve come. You told me to.”
“Anna!” he cried joyfully.
She stood for an instant motionless, breathing hard; gave a little failure of a laugh; then spoke quickly, in a voice meant to be calm.
“I stood them as long as I could. Now you must tell me where to go. Those men! While my father stayed himself, I had somebody; but now he’s—they’re both against me.” She broke off, as though stifled. “I’ll never go back; I won’t, I won’t!”
Ella suddenly moved between them.
“Come in the house,” she ordered coldly. “Can’t see ye. If the’ ’s trouble, we’ll take a light to it, first thing.”
They went in together to the front room. Miles lighted the candle (which, since Tony’s day, replaced the lamp) and over the trembling leaf-point of flame saw the girl’s head start into radiance like a vision. She stood before them with a half-shy, half-defiant composure; but her eyes and her brown cheeks told another story, a pulse throbbed in her bare throat, and under the thin blue cloth her breathing fluttered deeply.
“He tried to beat me,” she said, with the same quiet scorn. “Me, after all the time I was—”