Betty had broken down and was sobbing and moaning, clinging to Allan's arm.
"Betty, hush, hush child, hush dear, he is gone—there is nothing to fear!"
"But he will come back. Oh, Allan, I did mean to kill he——"
"Hush!" he said again.
"For he meant to kill 'ee and—and Allan he will think about it and brood about it, and one day he will surely kill 'ee, unless 'ee du watch he terribul, terribul close, he will kill 'ee!"
He laughed softly. "I am not afraid of him, Betty, hush dear, hush, don't cry!"
For she was sobbing bitterly and pressing her face against his arm, clinging to him as in fear, or love, or both.
"Hush!" he said. "Come, come, child, come!" But his hands were quivering and his heart seemed to be beating faster than usual, "Come!" he said again.
"Oh Allan, Allan, if he did hurt 'ee, I would want to die!" she moaned. "For I du; I du love 'ee—oh! I love 'ee terribul, terribul bad, I du!"
"Betty," he said, "hush, you must not! hush! come!" He drew her through the little arched green door into the yard. He himself was shaking now, trembling, afraid for her, afraid for himself, for his honour. She said she loved him and she clung to him, this passionate maiden. What mad folly it all was, what mad folly, God preserve them all!