The insult was unendurable. Mehalah's passion overpowered her. In a moment she had caught up the girl, and without considering what she was doing, she flung her into the sea. Then she staggered back and panted for breath.
A cry of dismay from De Witt. He rushed to the side.
"Stay!" said Mehalah, restraining him with one hand and pressing the other to her heart. "She will not drown."
The water was not deep. Several fisherlads had already sprung to the rescue, and Phœbe was drawn limp and dripping towards the shore. Mehalah stooped, picked up the girl's straw hat, and slung it after her.
A low laugh burst from someone riding in a boat under the side of the vessel.
"Well done, Glory! You served the pretty vixen right. I love you for it."
She knew the voice. It was that of Rebow. He must have heard, perhaps seen all.
CHAPTER VII
LIKE A BAD PENNY
"For shame. Glory!" exclaimed De Witt when he had recovered from his surprise but not from his dismay. "How could you do such a wicked and unwomanly act?"
"For shame, George!" answered Mehalah, gasping for breath. "You stood by all the while, and listened whilst that jay snapped and screamed at me, and tormented me to madness, without interposing a word."
"I am angry. Your behaviour has been that of a savage!" pursued George, thoroughly roused. "I love you, Glory, you know I do. But this is beyond endurance."
"If you are not prepared, or willing to right me, I must defend myself," said Mehalah; "and I will do it. I bore as long as I could bear, expecting every moment that you would silence her, and speak out, and say, 'Glory is mine, and I will not allow her to be affronted.' But not a step did you take, not a finger did you lift; and then, at last, the fire in my heart burst forth and sent up a
