He was much more at a loss for words than she, yet he recovered his self-possession in a moment.
“I’ve never been here since that day,” he began; and the girl nodded.
“Nor me, neither,” she said; “but I’m glad I came.”
“Are you? I was wondering if I hadn’t better have stayed away; if I hadn’t better cross t’ Cove off t’ map and have done with it. It hurts, Nancy! It’ll always hurt!”
“Hurts!” she answered with an emphasis of mockery. “Your hurt is just an empty place, a bit of an ache, same as when you’ve fasted too long. My hurt is a serpent ’at I’ve taken of my own free will and pressed to my bosom, and it bites deeper every day.”
The despair in her voice moved him strongly but hardly more than her calmness. There was no flash in her spirit; but there was strength and a certain stern attractiveness, as there is in the bog; and his heart ached with a sore longing.
“He isn’t unkind to you, is he?” he forced himself to ask, and she laughed contemptuously.
“Unkind? What is it to be unkind?” She looked down contemplatively, as if the question interested her. “Is he unkind?” she repeated in a low voice. “I never thought of that. He doesn’t beat me, if that’s what you mean, except now and again with his tongue and his looks; and two can play at that game.”
“Beat you!” The man’s lips tightened and he spoke through his teeth; “t’ first time ’at I hear ’at he’s laid hands on you I’ll do him in! Beat you! Devil as he is he isn’t black-hearted enough for that!”
“I don’t know that he is a devil,” she replied listlessly; “but he knows how to raise one, and he’s so cold and sure of himself that he makes me scream inside, though he’s never heard me and never will. I’m afraid of him; but he doesn’t know it, and I’m not whining; I’m just telling you how I feel. I’m like a baby in his hands. He’s a man who gets what he wants always. He wanted my money so he took me, same as you must take t’ purse with what’s inside it. And he perhaps wanted a woman, too, and one’s as good as another to such as him.”