When Jock came down through the wood,
And I felt the wind in the trees blow
The springtime into my blood.”
She gave the words with a kind of passionate recklessness, and all her youth seemed to thrill in her throat. Martin bowed his head and went on digging as though by sheer physical effort he could save himself from being a man.
Presently he found himself up against the hedge, with no more ground that he could attack with the spade. The hedge was in leaf, and hid the open moor from him. He fancied he heard some one moving on the other side of the green wall.
“Martin—Martin Valliant.”
He started to walk toward the chapel, but the voice followed him along the hedge.
“Do not be angry with me, Martin Valliant; I want to speak with you. You are a good man and to be trusted; I am a grown woman and no fool.”
Martin hesitated.
“What would you say to me?”