"Oh, so cruel," she said, shivering. "He looked through and through me, Ned, and laughed as I never heard any one laugh before, and asked me where I had found shelter. And when I told him he laughed again, and said that soon there would be none at Marsh to give me shelter. And then——" "Aye—and then?" "He—he told me all that he meant to do to thee, Ned; and when I tried to run away he held me by the arm, and hurt me—see! I carry the marks of it." She lifted her sleeve and held out her arm to him; and he nodded gravely as he saw the red finger-prints clear marked in red upon the dainty flesh. "He hates thee, Ned," she went on. "Why should he hate thee? I seem to have heard something—nay, it has gone!—what has he against thee, dear?" Shameless Wayne laughed grimly. "Less than I have against him, bairn. God, could he make sport of such as you?" "Shall you kill him, Ned?" she asked, looking up suddenly. He started at the question, voiced in so quiet and babyish a tone. "God willing, little bairn," he said, and was for crossing to the house, but she led him through the wicket that opened on the garden. "Come see my flowers first, Ned," she pleaded, forgetful altogether of her fright. "There’s a clump of daffy-down-dillies opening under the wall, and I bade them keep their eyes open till thou cam’st to say good-night to them.—’Tis summer-time, I think; look at the lady’s slipper yonder, and the celandines—Is’t not strange there should be so sweet a spot among these dreadful moors? I feel safer here always—as if none could do me hurt while I stayed with the flowers. Ned, wilt not stay here, too? The man with the hard face would never think to look for thee among the flowers, would he?" "May be not," he answered lightly.—"See, bairn, your daffies have closed their eyes after all; they could not hold up their heads for weariness, I warrant, when they found me so late in coming." "Shall I wake them, Ned?" she asked, looking gravely from the flowers to his face. "Nay, let them be till morning, and then I’ll have a word with them. ’Tis supper-time, bairn, and we must not keep Nell waiting." "Nell does not shrink away from me as she did a little while ago," said Mistress Wayne. He held his peace, wondering that this elf-like woman should note so many trifling matters that might well have escaped her; and he was glad to think that Nell’s heart was softening to the other’s helplessness. Nell was already at table, with the lads and Rolf Wayne of Cranshaw, who had just ridden across to see that all was well at Marsh. The lads were eyeing a saddle of mutton wistfully, and their faces brightened soon as Shameless Wayne took his place at the head of the board. "Hungry, lads?" he said, with a kindly glance at them. "Well, and should be, after the rare work we’ve done to-day with sword and spear—Rolf, there’ll be four more fighting men at Marsh by and by; these youngsters take to cut and parry like ducks to water."