world! What you've done for me, and what you'd do for me--"

There was a strange pathos in his voice, an uncommon thing, because his
usual eloquence was, as a rule, more pleasing than touching. A quick
change of feeling passed over her, and her eyes filled with tears. He
ran his arm round her shoulder.

"Ah, come, come!" he said, with a touch of insinuating brogue, and
kissed her. "Come, it's all right. I didn't mean anything, and she
didn't mean anything; and let's start fresh again."

She looked up at him with quick intelligence. "That's just what we'll
have to do," she said. "The Cure this morning at mass scolded the people
about the Rebellion, and said that Nic and you had brought all this
trouble upon Bonaventure; and everybody looked at our pew and snickered.
Oh, how I hate them all! Then I jumped up--"

"Well?" asked Ferrol, "and what then?"

"I told them that my brother wasn't a coward, and that you were my
husband."

"And then--then what happened?"

"Oh, then there was a great fuss in the church, and the Cure said ugly
things, and I left and came home quick. And now--"

"Well, and now?" Ferrol interrupted.

"Well, now we'll have to do something."