“I was just resting,” stammered the girl. “I hope I have not hurt your grass.” She looked apprehensively down at the pathetic imprint on the ground.
“No, no! Missie,” said the man. “That’s nothing. ’Tis hard to cut, in a place like this. May-be they’ll let it alone. Besides, this field ain’t for hay. The cows will be in here tomorrow.”
Lacrima looked at the watch on her wrist.
“Yes, you are right,” she said. “I am late. I must be running back. Your brother does not like our being out when he comes in to lunch.” She picked up her hat and made as if she would pass him. But he barred her way.
“Not so quick, lassie, not so quick,” he said. “Those that come into farmers’ fields must not be too proud to pass the time of day with the farmer.”
As he spoke he permitted his little voracious pig’s eyes to devour her with an amorous leer. All manner of curious thoughts passed through his head. It was only yesterday that his brother-in-law had been talking to him of this girl. Certainly it would be extremely satisfactory to be the complete master of that supple, shrinking figure, and of that frightened little bosom, that rose and fell now, like the heart of a panting hare.
After all, she was only a sort of superior servant, and with servants of every kind the manner of the rapacious Mr. Goring was alternately brutal and endearing. Encouraged by the isolation of the spot and the shrinking alarm of the girl, he advanced still nearer and laid a heavy hand upon her shoulder.
“Come, little wench,” he said, “I will answer for it if you’re late, up at the House. Sit down a bit with me, and let’s make ourselves nice and comfortable.”
Lacrima trembled with terror. She was afraid to push him away, and try to scramble out of the hollow, lest in doing so she should put herself still further at his mercy. She wondered if anyone in the road would hear if she screamed aloud. Her quick Latin brain resorted mechanically to a diplomatic subterfuge. “What kind of field have you got over that hedge?” she asked, with a quiver in her voice.
“A very nice field for hay, my dear,” replied the farmer, removing his hand from her shoulder and thinking in his heart that these foreign girls were wonderfully easy to manage.