“And do you wish to please me, Elgiva?” he asked. “Why should I wish to please you?” she asked, pettishly. Then a quick blush swept over her face; knowing, as she did, that a wish to find favour in his eyes had been the desire of her life ever since they had parted. She had sobbed herself to sleep the night after he had struck her. And then, as the months passed by and womanhood began to dawn on her, she realised how uncouth and ugly she must have appeared in his eyes--and she had done all in her power to improve the comeliness that was really hers, but in her raw youth had hardly shown itself. Cormac, in thought, had again gone back to their parting scene; he longed to ask for her forgiveness, but a strange shyness and restraint came upon him. “And how did you get into the Men’s Airecht at the Fair?” he asked, after a time. “I lost Gelert,” said Elgiva, with a new look of trouble in her eyes. “I missed him suddenly and ran at once to look for him. I could not find him, and when I came back to the place where I had left Ethne and our women, they were gone! I went about looking for them, and wandered in my confusion without noticing--into the Men’s Airecht.” “Are you sure Ethne had left the place where you had last seen her?” “I am certain, because it was marked with a wooden cross--the only wooden cross on the grounds. I could not be mistaken.” “I know the place,” said Cormac, “and all the paths from there lead into the Men’s Airecht! You could scarcely fail to wander in----” He considered for some minutes--then a strange bitter expression crossed his face. “I see it all!” he exclaimed. “It was a design on her part--she left the place purposely. She knew, if you wandered about at all, you could not fail to wander in there--it was a trick to be rid of you, once and for all.” The girl looked at him in horror. “Cormac, we are Christians, and our Christian boast is Love and Charity. Yet you have not sufficient charity to grant the conversion of one poor soul. I tell you Ethne is changed--she is a Christian!” Cormac was frowning, pacing up and down the cave, scarcely listening to his companion. He gave no thought to Ethne--all his thought was for Elgiva. He paused. “You are beautiful, Elgiva--and you, I know, are as virtuous as only a Christian maid can be. I will not take you back to a woman, vile, infamous and treacherous as a serpent.” “Then will I walk back alone--ay, through a thousand daggers!” exclaimed the Saxon. “Ethne is not vile and treacherous, and she is as a sister to me--as desirous as I myself of rescuing my mother. You are ungenerous, Cormac of Fail--unworthy the name of your father. Ah! I wish I had men and warriors--I wish I had an ancient name to which to rally followers--and that I might go and rescue my mother without your help.” Cormac stared at her. “Why--why did I leave Ethne’s side to-day, and why could not some other come and rescue me instead of you?”