"But I shall go to him," was the quiet reply.

Then the old people, whose hearts were in the wooing, broke out
together,--and by their voices, if one should argue with them, strife
was not far off. Clarice staid one moment, as if to take in the burden
of each eager voice; then she shook her head:--

"I am married already," she said; "I gave him my heart and my hand. You
would not rob Luke Merlyn?"

When she had so spoken, calmly, firmly, as if it were impossible that
she should be moved or agitated by such speech as this she had heard,
Clarice walked away to the beach, unmoored her father's boat, and rowed
out into the Bay.

Bondo Emmins stood with the old people and gazed after her.

"Odd fish!" he muttered.

"Never mind," said Old Briton, hobbling up and down the sand; "it's the
first time she's been spoke to. She'll come round. I know Clarice."

"You know Clarice?" broke in Dame Briton. "You don't know her! She isn't
Clarice,--she's somebody else. Who, I don't know."

"Hush!" said Bondo, who had no desire that the couple should fall into
a quarrel. "I know who she is. Don't plague her. It will all come out
right yet. I'll wait. But don't say anything to her about it. Let me
speak when the time comes.--Where's my pipe, Dame Briton?"