in my boat? Or, if you choose the inland road, may I not find a mule-cart for you, an ox-waggon? There are plenty in the Orbetellano.'
'You mean kindly,' she said, with her mind made up, and beyond any pressure or inclination from without. 'But I need nothing but the freedom of my feet. It is months since I saw a tuft of grass! That is pleasure enough!'
'Where are you going?'
'I am going home.'
'To those tombs?'
'Where else?'
He was silent. He dared not say to her, 'there is a home in Sicily.'
He dared not. He would almost as soon have dared to strike her a blow.
'The old man said just now he would not drive me out again,' she added; 'I think he was sorry that he had been cruel.'
'I hope he was,' said Villamagna simply. 'But oh, my dear, that is no place for you; a hole fit only for the fox, and the bat, and the owl. Will you not think a little before you return to it?'
A smile flitted over her face—pale as a moonbeam, but of ineffable tenderness.
