d, "nay, there, hide your face in my breast.
There, there, tell me now--tell me all."

"Sunlocks," she said, drawing back, "I have lied to you."

"Lied?"

"When I told you I had not known Jason I told you what was false."

"Then you have known him?"

"Yes, I knew him in the Isle of Man."

"The Isle of Man?"

"He lived there nearly five years."

"All the time he was away?"

"Yes, he landed the night you sailed. You crossed him on the sea."

"Greeba, why did he go there? Yet how should you know?"

"I do know, Michael--it was to fulfil his vow--his vow that the old
priest spoke of in court--his wicked vow of vengeance."

"On my father?"

"On your father and on you."

"God in heaven!" cried Michael Sunlocks, with great awe. "And that
very night my father was saved from his own son by death."

"It was he who saved your father from the sea."

"Wait," said Michael Sunlocks; "did you know of this vow before you
accused him of an attempt upon me?"

Greeba caught her breath, and answered, "Yes."

"Did you know of it while you were still in the Isle of Man?"

"Yes," she answered again, more faintly.

"Did he tell you?"

"Yes, and he bound me by a promise never to speak of it, but I could
not keep it from my own husband."

"That's strange," said Michael Sunlocks, with a look of pain. "To
share a secret like that with you was very strange," he added.

Greeba was flurried, and said again, too bewildered to see which way
her words were tending, "And he gave me his promise in return to put
aside his sinful purpose."

"That's still stranger," said Michael Sunlocks. "Greeba," he added,
in another tone, "why should you say you did not know Jason?"

"Because the Lagmann was with us."

"But why, my girl? Why?"

"Lest evil rumors might dishonor my husband."

"But where was the dishonor to me in my wife knowing this poor lad,
Greeba?"

At that she hesitated a moment, and then in a tone of gentle reproof
she said, nestling close to him and caressing his sleeve, "Michael,
why do you ask such questions?"

But he did not turn aside for that, but looked searchingly into her
face, and said, "He was nothing to you, was he?"

She hesitated again, and then tried to laugh, "Why, what should he be
to me?" she said.

He did not flinch, but repeated, "He was nothing to you then?"

"Nobody save my husband has ever been anything to me," she said, with
a caress.

"He was nothing to you--no?"

"No," she answered