"What," cried she, wilfully mistaking these tremors, "did I fright him then! Lord, how he do tremble! Oh, young man, you be a poor sort, I think!" "Poor indeed!" cried I passionately. "Poorer even than you judge me, for I haven't a penny in the world! But here is my watch--all I have left--take it--take it, for God's sake, and let me go!" Saying which I drew forth my gold repeater and would have forced it into her hand, but now she sprang back in her turn and, bowing her head, fronted me with both arms rigidly out-thrust. "Lord God!" she muttered. "D'ye think 'tis your money I want--your dirty money!" "What matter my thoughts?" I cried. "Here is my watch; pray take it and let us say good-bye!" Now here, to my unutterable amazement, she flung herself down, and crouched against the high, grassy bank, burst into a tempestuous weeping while I stood gaping and infinitely distressed. "I--I beg your pardon!" said I at last and then, struck by the inadequacy of these trite words, drew a pace nearer. "Oh, pray--pray don't weep!" I pleaded. "If I have hurt you, I crave your forgiveness!" Here she sobbed but the fiercer. "But indeed--indeed," I stammered, "I thought--that is, I did not think, I--I mean I could not leave you destitute and having no money to bestow, I--" "Money!" cried she bitterly. "Money!" And here, checking her sobs, added very unreasonably, "I hates you!" "Please," said I, "oh, pray believe I meant only kindness! I thought you were--" "A girl o' the road, a creeper o' ditches and byways--well, I'm not, I tell ye--I'm not! And I only followed ye because you were so wishful to be rid o' me and because you were so silly and young and strange I couldn't understand ye. But I do now, and I'm done wi' you! Go away--go away; I hates you more than Bennigo or Jochabed--go away, I hates you!" "Blind me, and no wonder!" chuckled a hoarse voice behind me with such startling suddenness as for a moment bereft me of speech or motion; then, wheeling about, I came face to face with a rough-clad, villainous-looking man who stood, powerful legs apart, hairy fists grasping a short, heavy stick or bludgeon, and evil head out-thrust to stare beyond me at the prostrate form of my companion who had merely lifted her head to watch us through her tumbled hair. "What d' you want?" I questioned the fellow, breathlessly. "Never you mind, my chick," he growled, leering upon the girl's shapeliness with evil eyes. "I know what she wants--and it ain't you, so cut your stick and leave 'er to the man who can comfort a fine, 'andsome lass." Though addressing me, his eyes were for my companion, his loathsome gaze never swerving from her prostrate form; very slowly and deliberately he began to approach her, and now in the man himself, in his every look and gesture there was an indescribable beastliness that turned me physically sick. But none the less, though my soul shrank within me, I ventured to grasp him by the sleeve.