Gilbot put his hand on her arm.
“What are you doing, woman?” he said.
“Burying my gran’daughter,” replied Nan laconically.
“Not in my land,” said the old man quickly. “I’ll have no graves in my land.”
Mother Swayle turned and looked at him steadily.
“The lass shall be buried in good Island earth, near the only home she ever had,” she said determinedly, “and the grave is dug, and, thy land or no, Master Gilbot, there she shall lie.”
The man hesitated for a moment, but little by little his wavering eyes dropped before Nan’s bright ones, and shrugging his shoulders he drew back to let her pass.
Hal, who had stood motionless watching them, now stepped forward.
“I—I’ll carry her for you, Mother,” he said without looking up.
Nan stared contemptuously at him for a moment, her bright eyes growing suddenly hard.