“Ah! Have these rough fools touched your pride? They can have my scorn for the asking. And are you nothing to me, or I to you? Have we not gone through the deeps together, and have you not carried my life in your hands? Man, what do these rough squires matter? Look into my eyes and see if there is shame in them.”
He bowed his head.
“Mellis—what am I but an outcast?”
“Then I am an outcast also. But for me you would be chanting your Masses. And you have been very noble and good to me. Oh, Martin, Martin! this wounds my heart.”
He gave a sudden cry, and fell on his knees before her.
“God help me, but there is nothing else in the world but you. I cannot bear that for my sake you should even suffer pain.”
She bent over him, her hands hovering close to his face.
“Pain! What pain is there? And were it real—should I not bear it?”
“God forbid! Child, I have a kind of dark forefeeling to-night. Yesterday was all sunlight, there was no fear or sorrow in my heart. I was Martin Valliant, a man who was ready to die for you. What has happened? I feel a menace, a threat, a shadow drifting toward us; we are not alone; other voices strike in on ours. This island is not the world; here—I could serve you; but beyond us there are shadows, the shadows of other men—other women; they whisper together against me.”
A great light transfigured her face. She was on her knees, her hands on his shoulders, her eyes wonderful to behold.