He was beyond all subterfuge. Lies seemed then too flimsy to handle—things that broke at a touch—only truth was strong enough for his mood.
“On the God of the Gospels, yes,” he answered. “But what has that to do with you and me?”
She crossed herself and shrank back against her husband.
“You deny Christ?” she asked, quivering.
“I am speaking to you, mother,” he answered passionately. “I am in great need of you, I am very lonely and weak with regrets—give me a kind farewell.”
“Do you deny Christ?” she repeated, and clutched her husband’s hand.
Luc lurched and caught hold of the back of the settle by the fire-place.
“Shall a dead man come between us?” he asked, and his voice was faint.
“The Living God!” answered his mother.
Luc straightened himself.