"To know that you are not the man men take you for; that dear souls that cling to you would shudder at your touch if the scales could fall from their eyes, or if for an instant--as by a flash of lightning--the mask fell from your face." Christian's voice deepened, and he added: "Yet to know that bad as one act of your life may have been, that life has not been all bad; that if men could but see you as Heaven sees you, perhaps--perhaps--you would have acquittal--" His voice trembled and he stopped. Mona was gazing out over the sea with blurred eyes that saw nothing. Christian had been resting one foot on the loom. Lifting himself he stamped on the floor, threw back his head with a sudden movement, and laughed again, slightly. "Something too much of this," he said. Then sobering once more, "Go back, Mona. It shan't be for long. I swear to you it shan't. But what must I do with debts hanging over me--" "I'll tell you what you must _not_ do," said the girl with energy. Christian's eyes but not his lips asked "What?" "You must not link yourself with that Bill Kisseck and his Curragh gang." A puzzled look crossed Christian's face. "Oh, I know their doings, don't you doubt it," said the girl. "What do you know of Bill Kisseck?" said Christian with some perceptible severity. "Tell me, Mona, what harm do you know of Bill and his--his gang, as you call them?" "I know this--I know they'll be in Castle Rushen one of these fine days." Christian looked relieved. With a cold smile he said, "I dare say you're right, Mona. They _are_ a rough lot, the Curragh fellows; but no harm in them that I know of." "Harm!" Mona had started the loom afresh, but she stopped once more. "Harm!" she exclaimed again. Then in a quieter way, "Keep away from them, Christian. You've seen too much of them of late." Christian started. "Oh, I know it. But you can't touch pitch--you mind the old saying." Mona had again started the loom, and was rattling at the levers with more than ordinary energy. Christian watched her for a minute with conflicting feelings. He felt that his manhood was being put to a severe strain. Therefore, assuming as much masculine superiority of manner as he could command, he said: "We'll not talk about things that you don't quite understand, Mona. What Kisseck may do is no affair of ours, unless I choose to join him in any enterprise, and then I'm the best judge, you know." The girl stopped. Resting her elbow on the upper lever, and gazing absently out at the window where the light waves in the bay were glistening through a drowsy haze, she said, quietly: "The man that I could choose out of all the world is not one who lives on his father and waits for the storm to blow over. No, nor one that clutches at every straw, no matter what. He's the man who'd put his hand to the boats, or the plow, or the reins; and if he hadn't enough to buy me a ribbon, I'd say to myself, proudly, 'That man loves me!'"