The two were left alone and the island seemed incredibly small and strange about them--at least to Stair. But Patsy was not in the least put about. She did the honours of the old tower of the Herons. She led the way to where Jean had spread their first meal, and motioned Stair to his place. He sat down like an automaton and looked about him as if he were seeing through a haze. It was a large and pleasant kitchen, stone-floored, with oak furniture as old as the time of Patrick Heron and May Mischief his wife. A bright fire was burning on the old-fashioned hearth, and the room looked cosy enough in spite of the old small-paned windows. It had recently been put into order, and new, bright utensils hung upon the ranges of pins and hooks against the wall. But Stair's food seemed to choke him, somehow. He felt the imperious need of speech. "Oh, Patsy!" he began--but he got no farther. Patsy was in possession of the field in a moment. "Stair," she said warningly, as she held up her hand to stop him; "Stair, you have never failed me yet. Don't let me trust you in vain. I married you because I had need of you--" "Not," said Stair, speaking disjointedly, "not because you wanted to marry me--not because--you loved me?" "Oh, I wanted to marry you! Yes, I wanted that. I needed you to help me to do what I could not do in any other way. But--wait a while. Neither you nor I know what love means yet. _I_ certainly do not. I am too young. Meanwhile, you are the most dependable person in my world. Let love alone for a little. What difference can it make to you and me? Let us help one another, depend one on the other--I have run off with you, and if you are under age I dare say I could be put into prison for that. But that is the way of the Pict woman. What she wants, she takes. I ran away from London. I took you out of prison, and when I had you, I brought you here to live on herrings. I wanted to be rid of princes who pestered me to marry them, of royal dukes who ran away with me, of kind uncles and princesses who thought to make my bed all eider down and cotton wool, my food all rose-leaves and honey!" "I understand--I understand," said Stair, with a certain fierce determination in his eye, "you shall have no cause to regret that you have chosen me as your squire and armour-bearer. I shall not claim more than is my due, and of what that is I have a very small opinion indeed!" Patsy looked at Stair. He seemed to be understanding--almost too well. There was no need that he should remove himself to so vast a distance. She wanted them to be two comrades--two Crusoes without a man Friday, working harmoniously for the common good of the community. But Stair held out for a position frankly subaltern. "If you will tell me what I am to do--you know the place better than I--it is time to do it!" He was outwardly calm, inwardly raging, as he spoke.