When the night and the trouble of the storm were past, not a ship afloat was scatheless. From one that crawled disabled, a boat was spied, drifting keel upward, with the body of a man hanging across it, whose bright hair shone in the early sun, making a swarter race wonder. Against all conjecture life proved to be in him yet. And what unimaginable death had been at him? What garland was this on his throat: blossoms of blood under the skin? When he was recovered to speech he would not say. Good christian men, what could they think? His boat was righted, and with scant charity he was hustled back into it; none of these, suddenly eager to be quit of him, wishing him God-speed. Under cover of night he crawled up to his home, dreading in his guilt to face the dear, stern eyes of his mother. Ah! no, he entered to no questioning and little heed: the two women sat stricken with sorrow; not for him: in the room beyond Giles lay dead. So Christian's three gold pieces buried Giles with such decent honour as Lois could desire. CHAPTER XIV Christian's misdoing was not to pass unregarded. A woman turned upon Rhoda passing with a mutter so like a curse that the girl's surprise struck her to a pause. It was Philip's mother who faced her, glowering hate. 'What have you done with my boy?' 'I?' said Rhoda, with widening eyes, though she blushed. 'You--smooth-faced chit--yes, you! Oh, keep those fine eyes and that colour to take in men, for me they will not! I can see through you! I know you, and the games you are playing!' 'What then?' flashed Rhoda. 'You accuse me? Of what? and by what right?' 'Right! The right of a mother whose son you have driven away.' 'He is nothing to me--never will be--never--nothing!' 'I know it. I know it well, and I told him so: nothing! 'Tis only your vanity to have at your heels the properest lad and the bravest of the place.' 'He!' cried Rhoda, in disdain. 'Ay, I know how your fancy has run, against natural liking for the dark-haired and dark-eyed of your own race; your vagary goes after fair hair and grey eyes. Well, see for all your sly offers that great blond dolt gapes and gapes over your bait, never closing to it. That northern blood is half brine.' Rhoda stood speechless; her anger, shame, and pain transcended blushes, and she changed to dead white. 'And you pick out one who can love like a man, who fires at a word or a look, and him you delight to stab and torment with your cruel tongue, while you use him for your ends. Shameless! You have dropped yourself into his arms even, so to heat the Alien from his fishes' blood. May I live to see you put to shame of some man!' 'He said--oh, vile--of me! Cur, cur!' ''Tis I that can read between the lines, not he, poor blind fool! Miscall him! ay, you have got the trick. You may bring up faults against him--some do; but I tell you no man will do greatly amiss who still goes to his old mother and opens his heart to her.'