But the Broom-Squire entirely misconceived her action. With quivering voice and flashing eyes, he said—
"Oh, if this had been Iver, the daub-paint, you would not have pushed me away."
Her eyebrows contracted, and a slight start did not pass unnoticed.
"I know very well," he said, "of whom you were thinking. Deny it if you can? Your mind was with Iver Verstage."
She was silent. The blood rushed foaming through her head; but she looked Bideabout steadily in the face.
"It is guilt which keeps you silent," he said, bitterly.
"If you are so sure that I thought of him, why did you ask?" she replied, and now the color faded out of her face.
Jonas laughed mockingly.
"It serves me right," he said in a tone of resentment against himself. "I always knew what women were; that they were treacherous and untrue; and the worst of all are those who think themselves handsome; and the most false and vicious of all are such as have been reared in public-houses, the toast of drunken sots."
"Why, then, did you take me?"