"Yes. You fled from the danger to which another in your place succumbed, and you have taken refuge with me. To those who do so I am bound. Come in; there is no danger here."
It seemed to Oona that there were two beings in her—one which ridiculed her distrust, which would have accepted the hand held out; another—not her, surely, not her frank and unsuspicious self—who held back and clung in terror to the door. She stammered, hearing even in her voice the same conflict, some tones that were her own, some shrill that were not hers—"I want no protection—but God's."
"Why then," he said with a smile, "did you not remain among the ruins? What brought you here?"
There was an answer—a good answer if she could have found it—but she could not find it, and made no reply.
"You refuse my friendship, then," he said, "which is a pity, for it might have saved you much suffering. All the same, I congratulate you upon your prize."
These last words stopped the current towards him of that natural sentiment of confidence and faith in her fellow-creatures, which was Oona's very atmosphere. Her prize! What did he mean by her prize?
"There could not be anything more satisfactory to your friends," he said. "A title—large estates—a position which leaves nothing to be desired. Your mother must be fully satisfied, and your brothers at the ends of the world will all feel the advantage. Other conquests might have been better for the Erradeens, but for you nothing could be more brilliant. It was a chance too, unlikely, almost past hoping for, thus to catch a heart in the rebound."
She stood aghast, gazing with eyes that were pained by the strain, but which would not detach themselves from his face. Brilliant! advantages! Was she in a dream? or what was the meaning of the words?
"It is against my own policy," he continued, "as perhaps you know; still I cannot help admiring your skill, unaided, against every drawback. You have a strong mind, young lady of the isle, and the antecedents which would have daunted most women have been allies and auxiliaries to you." His laugh was quite soft and pleasant, sounding like gentle amusement, not ridicule. "I know your family," he continued, "of old. They were all men of strong stomachs, able to swallow much so long as their own interest was concerned. With Highland caterans, that is comprehensible; but one so young as you—named like you—after—" he laughed again that low soft laugh of amusement as if at something which tickled him in spite of himself, "the emblem of purity and innocence—'heavenly Una with her milk-white lamb.'"
"You want," said Oona, whose voice sounded hoarse in her throat, and sharp to her own ears, "to make me mad with your taunts; to make me give up—"