enwound again; both arms were fast: he cried to his God to
resume his soul, and to take it straight out of his body and out of hell.

Away she turned with teeth clenched and furious eyes; then, writhing, she
returned, reached out, with one finger touched, and the foul creature
shrank, relaxed, drew coil by coil away, dropped, and was gone.
Diadyomene flashed away.

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