no pity, makes no allowance, expects
the utmost, and a hundred times they had heard James brag and brawl.
They would not understand, they would not believe. And Uncle Ulick was
away.

There remained only Luke Asgill, who had offered his help.

"If you are not well," she said, in the same hard voice, "shall I be
telling Mr. Asgill? He may contrive something."

The man cringing in the bed leapt at the hope, as he would have leapt
at any hope. Nor was he so bemused by fear as not to reflect that,
whatever Flavia asked, Asgill would do. "Ah, tell him," he cried,
raising himself on his elbow. "Do you be telling him! He can make
him--wait, may be."

At that moment she came near to hating her brother. "I will send him to
you," she said.

"No!" he cried anxiously. "No! Do you be telling him! You tell him! Do
you hear? I'm not so well to see him."

She shivered, seeing plainly the cowardice, the unmixed selfishness of
the course he urged. But she had not the heart to answer him. She went
from the room without another word, and, going back to her own chamber,
she dressed. By this time it wanted not much of seven. The house was
astir, the June sunshine was pouring with the songs of birds through
the windows, she heard one of the O'Beirnes stumble downstairs. Next
Asgill opened his door and passed down. In a twinkling she slipped out
and followed him. At the bottom of the staircase he turned, hearing her
footstep behind him, but she made a sign to him to go on, and led him
into the open air. Nor when they were outside did she speak until she
had put the courtyard between herself and the house.

For she would have hidden their shame from all if she could! Even to
say what she had to say to one, and though he already guessed the
truth, cost her in pain and humiliation more than her brother had paid
for aught in his selfish life. But it had to be said, and, after a
pause, and with eyes averted, "My brother is ill," she faltered. "He
cannot meet--that man, this morning. It is--as you feared. And--what
can we do?"

In another case Luke Asgill would have blessed the chance that linked
him with her, that wrought a tie between them, and cast her on his
help. But he had guessed, before she opened her mouth, what she had to
say--nay, for hours he had lain sleepless on his bed, with eyes staring
into the darkness, anticipating it. He had been certain of the
issue--he knew James McMurrough; and, being a man who loved Flavia
indeed,