She was about to deny the allegation, but the lie she would utter refused to pass her lips.
"That is no business of yours," she replied.
"Is it not?" he exclaimed bitterly. "It used to be," he hissed out, "when you were only a plain carpenter's daughter. Now that you are a rich young rogue's plaything——"
Scarcely were the words uttered, when down came the wattle-stick, with which the girl had been toying, across the young man's face, leaving from forehead to cheek its fiery mark.
Malduke started forward. At that moment, Travers, intent on his work, appeared at the end of the dam.
"Blow for blow a man cannot give, not in one way—perhaps he can in another," muttered the socialist, as, catching up the gun, and shaking his fist at the trembling girl, he disappeared down the bank.
Gwyneth sat on a log and mused. Enraged at the insult to which she had been subjected, she did not regret the summary chastisement she had inflicted, but a sense of danger impending for herself and for others crept over her.
"What is the matter, Gwyneth? You seem excited. Your hand is shaking," said Travers, approaching.
"Oh, nothing. A rabbit started up beside me; I suppose I am nervous."
"Is that all? Come for a stroll down the bank."
The girl begged to return home, but seeing Travers intent as a matter of duty upon examining the canal, and not wishing to be left alone, she went with him.
The two were soon at the bottom of the works.
Thirty feet above them the dam towered; on either side the smooth sides rose perpendicularly.
