“There is something for you,” he said, throwing down a small silver coin; for he judged that she might be a beggar. “Now stand aside, will you, for I am in haste.”
“So you bestow your alms upon me, as upon a beggar, Jacob Wynne,” said the woman, with a hard, bitter laugh. As she spoke, she drew aside her veil with an impatient movement, and allowed him a full view of her features.
“Margaret!” he exclaimed, recoiling so hastily as to spill the contents of the glass.
“Yes,—Margaret!” she repeated, in the same hard tone as before. “I dare say you did not expect to see me here.”
“What fiend sent you here?” he exclaimed, angrily.
“Is it so remarkable,” she said, “that I should wish to be near you?”
“Margaret,” said Jacob, with difficulty restraining his anger sufficiently to assume a tone of persuasion, “consider how much attention you will attract, dressed in this uncouth style. Go home; there’s a good woman.”
He looked uneasily in the direction where he had left his companion, fearing that she might become a witness of this interview.
“Good woman!” she laughed, wildly. “Oh, yes, you do well to call me that. You are doing your best to make me so.” Then changing her tone, “So you are ashamed of my dress. I will not disgrace you any longer, if you will give me money to buy others.”
“Well, well! we’ll talk about that when we get home. Only walk quietly down to the boat now. You see we are attracting attention.”