"You must hear me first," she replied, resolutely.
Jerningham, stifling his annoyance, motioned Gregory to keep the waterman waiting; then led the way up the stairs to the terrace, bade his visitor be seated upon a stone bench, and faced her sullenly.
"Is this how you keep your promise?" he said, rebukingly.
"Oh, marry, I put you in no danger. I might have walked boldly to the doors and asked for you. But I lay off yonder in the boat till you came forth; it put me to the more cost, but you are shielded."
"Well, why in God's name have you come?"
"Because you would not come to the Grange, and I must needs have speech with you. You forbade messages."
"Then have speech with me, and make an end. But look you, Meg, I have no money. I have kept my word with you; I have given you a home at the Grange; 'twas all I promised."
"'Tis all I ask. But the place must be a home, not a hell. 'Tis well enough by day, and I mind not the loneness—troth, I'm glad to hide my shame. But by night 'tis fearful, with none but old Jeremy for protection, and he so feeble and such a coward. You must send a man there, you must!—a man that is able to use a sword and pistol, and not afraid."
"Why, who would go so far from the highroad to rob such a rotten husk of a house?"