Pity for the desolate Nadia was making itself felt even by the business-like Cyril; but pity itself could not induce him to relax one whit of his precautions for securing a happy ending to Caerleon’s wooing. When they landed that afternoon on a small island, inhabited only by a few fishermen and goatherds, he sent his brother to walk with the Princess, and to carry the stock of Gospels and picture-tracts which she always distributed at the huts they visited, while he himself, on the plea of weakness, followed slowly with Nadia. When the Princess and Caerleon emerged from the little church on the hill-top, whither the village priest had taken them to look at the ancient icons and service-books, they found him waiting for them outside alone.
“Miss O’Malachy was tired, and I left her to rest on the way up,” he said. “Caerleon, don’t you think it would be a delicate attention if you went and offered her your arm? Give me the Princess’s books, and we will try and establish communications with the old pope here.”
Very willingly Caerleon left his brother talking to the priest in a wonderful medley of dialects, and began to descend the path by which they had come up the hill. A bare-footed little girl herding goats was the only person he saw until he came upon Nadia, sitting upon a stone, with her face buried in her hands.
“Can I—can I do anything for you, Miss O’Malachy?” he asked, hesitatingly.
“Yes—you can go away,” she returned, fiercely, without looking up, but the tears were forcing themselves through her fingers, and she began to sob in a hopeless way that went to Caerleon’s heart. He stood looking at her, without an idea what to do, until she rose suddenly.
“If you will not go away, I must,” she said in her most dogged tone, dashing away her tears, but for once Caerleon saw his opportunity and grasped it.
“No, you will not,” he said, barring her path. “We must have an explanation, Nadia. I want to know what you mean by treating me in this way?”
“In what way?” It was evident that this carrying of the war into her own territories took Nadia by surprise.
“Why, the way you have behaved to me ever since we came on board,—rating me all day long, and treating me as if I was the dust under your feet.”
“It has not done you much harm. I wish it had,” and her grey eyes flashed stormily.