“We have to decide what we are going to do.”

She nodded, put down her cup, and folded her hands in her lap. She had not taken so much as a sip, and he thought his indifference about Rob had hurt her, and now she was putting on serenity as if she were drawing a cape around her shoulders.

“You are determined not to be worried?”

“Of course I’m worried.” She found a faint smile. “I’ve been thinking of you day and night. If I could’ve sent you a message, I would’ve done. I’ve been sleepless wondering what you’d think. I didn’t mean to spring this on you, but what else could I do? I’ve been waiting and hoping that you’d come back.”

“My love, beloved . . .” Now that he was faced with her luminous beauty, shining against her poor clothes, as out of place here as in the tidelands, he lost the words that he had assembled overnight, in the sleepless hours when he had prayed for guidance, knowing that his own prayers were a sin. “I can imagine my future with you; but not with a child. It can’t be.”

He saw her slowly inhale the meaning of his words. For a moment she made no answer. Her dark gray gaze went down to her worn shoes and back to his face. “No child? Then what would you have me do?”

He felt strangely awkward. “Is it not possible for you to take something that would make it disappear?”

“No,” she said simply. “There is nothing in the world that can make a baby disappear.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know I won’t pretend with words.”

He took up his cup of ale and took a sip of the hot sweetness to hide his rising temper. “I don’t mean to pretend with words. It’s just—”

“It’s a terrible thing to speak of. Worse to do,” she said, as if agreeing with him.

“But it’s not too late to do something?”

Gravely, she shook her head. “It’s never too late to do something.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Some women smother the baby as it’s born and say it was a stillbirth. Is that what you want me to do?”

“No!” He had raised his voice, and he looked around, embarrassed. Nobody had noticed them. “But would you do something now? For us? For our life together?”

“If I did it, we would have a life together?”

He could not believe that he had won so quickly. “I swear it. I will go with you now into the cathedral and swear it.”

“You want it dead.”

He looked at her set face. “Only so that I can be with you.”

She drew a shuddering breath, and then slowly she shook her head as if her pale lips could not speak. “That is a terrible bargain. No. No. I could not.”

“Because you think it is a sin? I can explain—”

“No,” she interrupted him. “Because I could not bear it. Whether it’s a sin against God or not. Whatever you could say. It would be . . .” she sought for the word “. . . it would be an offense to me.” She shot him a swift glance. “It would be a deep offense to me, against myself.”