The bill-hook whirled above them and came down in a clean cut upon the branch; the two ends of the rope fell away, one on either side. George gave the great stone a push with the point of the blade and it fell from its place, splashing into the blackness below and sending up a shower of icy drops. The circles widened and widened underneath till they fell out of shape against the sides of the pool.
“Do ye see that?” he exclaimed, releasing her and looking at her with stern eyes. “Mary Vaughan, that’s where you would be now, but that I had been set to take this way an’ not the high-road.”
She made no reply.
“Will you repent it?” he asked, “or be I to tell on you? They at the toll-house are like enough to shut you up if I do—and ’twill be no more nor their duty too.”
Her overwrought mind was beginning to feel the influence of his quiet strength of purpose and she resented it. A sullen expression crossed her face.
“Do as you will,” she answered. “What do I care? You’ve done me an ill trick an’ I hate you for it. Go, I tell you!”
She turned her head away. He sat quietly beside her, pity and wrath in his heart.
“Will you let me be?” she said, after a pause, turning on him and gathering excitement in her voice.
“I won’t.”
Then her lips shook and her breast heaved, and she burst into a torrent of helpless tears.