'Yes, but I have got the choughs. Mother, I have been endeavouring to make amends for a cruel wrong that has been done. I have been guilty in risking a life for a fancy.'
'Amends! What amends? A guinea is what you offered. Have you made it thirty shillings? That is ample and over-flowing.'
'No, mother. Let us turn and go home. When we are on the beach we will talk; here we must walk in file, and the red marl is greasy.'
Jane Marley turned about and led the way; but she looked over her shoulder to observe her daughter. She was not easy in her mind about her. She was frightened at what the consequences might be of what she had uttered in sudden alarm at seeing Jack Rattenbury on the brink of a terrible death. At length they reached the bottom of the declivity. Here lay the shingle beach before them, backed by Indian-red cliffs in which lay the strips of curious verdigris shale, and all crowned with intense green and rich vegetation. At intervals oozed a liquid like blood, the drainage of the sandstone. No one was in sight; but owing to the noise made by walking on the flint and chert pebbles, mother and daughter could not converse in a low tone and be heard by one another. It was necessary for them to speak aloud and in high-pitched voices.
'Well,' said Mrs. Marley, 'what amends, but money? I have offered him help, and he threw my offer back in my face. As to the choughs—any lad would risk his neck for guinea—you owe him nothing, now he is paid.'
'No other lad would take my offer, mother.'
'If he had fallen, it would have been his own doing. There is nothing to be won without risk. My father risked his life and liberty—my brother did the same, and lost his life.'
'I urged—I drove him to it, mother. If any catastrophe had happened, I should have felt that I could not live longer. If Jack had been killed, I would have thrown myself down.'
Her mother laughed scornfully.