“Saying her prayers somewhere. I have not seen her since noon. She is touched in the head, and goes wandering for hours together.”
Geraint sat down on the bench beside the dame. He was in a sullen mood, and very bitter.
“The fool! Send her back to the moor.”
“She swears she will not go.”
“This Martin Valliant is the devil. She could make nothing of him?”
“Why, my good man, it was he who made a Magdalene of her. She came back crying, ‘He is a saint. There is no man in Paradise fit to lace his shoes!’ ”
Geraint cursed under his breath.
“A pest take both of them!”
She rapped his shoulder sharply with her knuckles.
“A word of warning, Dom Geraint. If the man is dangerous, the girl may prove more so. I tell you he has worked a miracle with her, and women are strange creatures. She says openly, ‘Some day Martin Valliant will come down from the moor, and make an end of the wickedness in Paradise.’ ”