She left her seat on the tree and stood facing him.
“So they would drive you out—send you to beggary or death.”
“They think me accursed.”
Her hands went to his shoulders, but his arms remained rigid, and he did not move.
“Martin Valliant, the rebel in me fights for you. Why should we truckle to this clowns’ world? What does it know of my heart or of yours? Why, we could go on living to the mean level of the beasts, throwing our pearls in the troughs, forever and ever.”
“But what I was—and what I am!”
“Man, man, I love you! Is there shame or sin in my eyes? Why, there was no true beauty in the world till we began to love each other. And am I to disown you, send you back to your death, because these lords and gentlemen have unclean, grudging hearts? No—by my God, I will not let you go.”
He stood rigid, opening and shutting his hands. His eyes looked into hers appealingly.
“But, child, they speak shameful things.”
“Let them call me all the foul names that ever were. Am I touched by them? It is for me to choose. And I say to you that they shall not part us. For if you love me, Martin——”