She did not answer. She stood as though frozen to ice; with her eyes on the door of the smithy, where stood a figure—the figure of a man.
Suddenly she uttered a piercing cry. 'George! my George! my George!' and withdrew her hand from the grasp of Elijah. The iron ring fell from his fingers into the red fire below and was lost.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE RETURN OF THE LOST.
Mehalah was clasped in the arms of George De Witt.
'Who is there? Where is he?' shouted Elijah, staggering forward with his great pincers raised ready to strike.
George drew the girl out of the way, and let the angry man burst out of the door and pass, beating the air with his iron tool. He put his arm round her, and led her from the house. She could not speak, she could only look up at him as at one risen from the dead. He led her towards the sea-wall, looking behind him at the figure of the blind man, rushing about, and smiting recklessly in his jealousy and fury, and hitting bushes, rails, walls, anything in hopes of smiting down the man whose name he had heard, and who he knew had come back to break in on and ruin his hopes.
George De Witt walked lamely, he had a somewhat stiff leg; otherwise he seemed well.
'How manly you have grown!' exclaimed Mehalah, holding him at arms' length, and contemplating him with pride.
'And you, Glory, have become more womanly; but in all else are the same.'