Free Daughter of Satan by Jean Plaidy

right,’ he said. ‘Those young devils might have drowned you. Keep out of their way in future.’
    She heard herself stammer: ‘They were afraid of me. They had to bind my eyes.’
    She tottered towards him and he caught her as she almost fell. She was quick enough to see the disgust he felt at her nearness, and she was aware immediately of her verminousrags in contrast with his exquisite garments. With dignity she drew herself away from him.
    â€˜Thank you for making them pull me out,’ she said, and began to totter away.
    â€˜Here, child!’ he called after her.
    But she would not look back.
    â€˜What the devil!’ he shouted.
    The tears were running down her cheeks. She had been deeply insulted, first by the children and then by him; she was not going to let anyone see her tears.
    She limped back to the cottage and Granny did her best to comfort her. Granny hobbled from her chair to make some special brew.
    â€˜There,’ muttered the old woman. ‘You’m doing well. ’Twas your first ducking and you stood up well to it.’
    When Tamar retired behind her ring of stones, she did not feel the pain of her limbs and the soreness of her wounds. She could only think of the man in the elegant clothes who had been disgusted to have her near him.
    She thought of Richard Merriman a good deal after that. But for him she might have died, for they would have stoned her to death or left her to drown, as they often did stray cats and dogs; she was no more to them than an unwanted animal. Yet they were afraid of her, and that was why they hated her. Perhaps it was not such a good thing to be feared? How much better to be loved!
    She must not be angry with Richard Merriman, though, for he had saved her. He could not help it if she disgusted him. She remembered how she had disgusted Bartle Cavill and her eyes blazed with hatred at the thought of him. I hope the Spaniards get him! she thought. I hope they brand him with hot irons and burn him for his faith.
    She looked about her, waiting for the earth to open and the Devil to appear, waiting for some animal to come to her and speak with a human voice, and demand her eternal soul in exchange for what she asked. Nothing happened.
    â€˜No!’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want the Spaniards to get him, for he would never deny his faith and they would burnhim alive and I would never see him again.’ And she wanted to see him again, so that she could show him in some way how she hated him.
    As for the other man, Richard Merriman, she must show her gratitude to him, since he had saved her life. The daughter of Satan must acknowledge her debts.
    There was a spot on the cliffs where it was said that it was possible to find seagulls’ eggs, although it was rarely anyone went in search of them as the climb was dangerous and the slate and shale cliffs offered scarcely any footing; but the eggs would be all the more appreciated if they were hard to get.
    She grew excited at the project. When she took the eggs to him, she would say very haughtily: ‘You do not like the smell of me, sir, but perhaps you will like the taste of these. They are for you because you saved my life.’
    The sun was high in the sky when she set out. As she walked to the lonely spot, she kept clear of all trees, for she would never again walk unwarily under trees; she kept turning to make sure she was not being followed. The climb was long and steep, and several times she nearly lost her footing; the birds whirled about her head – gulls and cormorants – shrieking, screaming at her as though indignant at her intrusion. But she was not afraid of the birds.
    She pulled her way up, hanging on to the tufts of coarse ling, cutting her feet on jagged rock, scratching her legs on the gorse; once or twice she almost fell, but she went on triumphantly.
    Looking down at the rocks below, it occurred to her that if she fell it would be to death; but that was