“So you think—”
“Aye, I think ’twas a joke with ye—from first to last. Maybe ye made a wager with some one—or ye were dared to take to the road in rags—or ye did it for copy; ye’re not the first man who has done the like for the sake of a new idea for a story. ’Twas a pity, though, ye couldn’t have got what ye wanted without making a girl pay with her self-respect.”
The tinker winced, reaching out a deprecatory hand. “You are wrong; no one has paid such a price. There are some natures so clear and fine that chance and extremity can put them anywhere—in any company—without taking one whit from their fineness or leaving one atom of smirch. Do you think I would have brought you here and risked your trust and censorship of my honor if you had not been—what you are? A decent man has as much self-respect as a decent woman, and the same wish to keep it.”
But Patsy’s comprehension was strangely deaf.
“’Tis easy enough trimming up poor actions with grand words. There’d have been no need of risking anything if ye had set me on the right road this morning; I would have been in Arden now, where I belong. But that wasn’t your way. ’Twas a grand scheme ye had—whatever it might be; and ye fetch me away afore the town is up and I can ask the road of any one; and ye coax me across pastures and woods, a far cry from passing folk and reliable information; and ye hold me, loitering the day through, till ye have me forgetting entirely why I came, along with the promise laid on me, and the other poor lad—Heaven help him!”
“Oho!” The tinker whistled unconsciously.
“Oho!” mimicked Patsy; “and is there anything so wonderfully strange in a lass looking after a lad? Sure, I’m hating myself for not minding his need better; and, Holy Saint Michael, how I’m hating ye!” She ran out of the room and up the stairway.
The tinker was after her in a twinkling. He reached the foot of the stairs before she was at the top. “Please—please wait a minute,” he pleaded. “If there’s another—lad, a lad you—love, that I have kept you from—then I hate myself as much as you do. All I can say is that I didn’t think—didn’t guess; and I’m no end sorry.”
Patsy leaned over the banisters and looked down at him through eyes unmistakably wet. “What does it matter to ye if he’s the lad I love or not? And can’t a body do a kindness for a lad without loving him?”
“Thank Heaven! she can. You have taught me that miracle—and I don’t believe the other lad will grudge me these few hours, even if you do. Who knows? My need may have been as great as his.”