Some of you have done this out of
love; some of you have done it out of hate; yet set me free again upon
the path to my home, and I shall forget it, and the Ry of Rys will forget
it."
At that instant there suddenly came forward from the doorway of a tent on
the outskirts of the crowd a stalwart woman, with a strong face and a
self-reliant manner. She was still young, but her slightly pockmarked
countenance showed the wear and tear of sorrow of some kind. She had,
indeed, lost her husband and her father in the Montenegrin wars.
Hastening forward to Fleda she reached out a hand.
"Come with me," she said; "come and sleep in my tent to-night. To-morrow
you shall go back to the Ry of Rys, perhaps. Come with me."
There was a sudden murmuring in the crowd, which was stilled by a motion
of Jethro Fawe's hand, and a moment afterwards Fleda gave her hand to the
woman.
"I will go with you," Fleda said. Then she turned to Jethro: "I wish to
speak to you alone, Jethro Fawe," she added.
He laughed triumphantly. "The wife of Jethro Fawe wishes to speak with
him," he bombastically cried aloud to the assembled people, and he
prepared to follow Fleda.
As Fleda entered the woman's tent a black-eyed girl, with tousled hair
and a bold, sensual face, ran up to Jethro, and in an undertone of evil
suggestion said to him:
"To-night is yours, Jethro.
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