“And thee does not think then,” muttered Nathan, snuffling twice as much as before, but growing bolder as Roland’s gratitude reassured him,—­“thee does not think,—­that is, thee is not of opinion,—­that is to say, thee does not altogether hold it to be as a blood-guiltiness, and a wickedness, and a shedding of blood, that I did take to me the weapon of war, and shoot upon thee wicked oppressors, to the saving of thee life?  Truly, friend, it was to save thee life,—­thee must remember that; it was a thing that was necessary, and not to be helped.  Truly, friend, it was my desire to help thee in peace and with a peaceful hand; but, of a truth, there was thee enemies at thee side, with their guns and their knives, ready to start up and knock out thee unfortunate brains.  Truly, friend, thee sees it couldn’t be helped; and, truly, I don’t think thee conscience can condemn me.”

“Condemn you indeed!” cried the young man; “it was an act to bind my gratitude for ever,—­an act to win you the admiration and respect of the whole world, which I shall take care to make acquainted with it.”

“Nay, friend,” said Nathan, hastily, “the less thee says of it the better:  if thee is theeself satisfied in thee conscience of its lawfulness, it is enough.  Do thee, therefore, hold thee tongue on this and all other matters wherein thee has seen me do evil; for truly I am a man of a peaceful faith, and what I have done would be but as a grief and a scandal to the same.”

“But my friends,—­my poor Edith!—­wretch that I am to think of myself or of others, while she is still a captive!” cried Roland, again endeavouring to rise.  But his limbs, yet paralysed from the tightness with which thongs had been bound around them, tottered beneath him, and but for Nathan, he must have fallen to the earth.  “The emigrants,” he continued with incoherent haste;—­“you brought them?  They are pursuing the savages? they have rescued her?  Speak, Nathan,—­tell me all; tell me that my cousin is free!”

“Truly, friend,” muttered Nathan, his countenance losing much of the equanimity that had begun to cover it, and assuming a darker and disturbed expression, “thee doth confuse both theeself and me with many questions.  Do thee be content for awhile, till I chafe thee poor legs, which is like the legs of a dead man, and tie up thee wounds.  When thee can stand up and walk, thee shall know all I have to tell thee, both good and bad.  It is enough thee is theeself safe.”

“Alas, I read it all from your looks,” cried the soldier; “Edith is still a prisoner:  and I lie here a miserable, crushed worm, incapable of aiding, unable even to die for her!  But the emigrants, my friends? they are at least urging the pursuit? there is a hope they will retake her?”

“Truly, friend,” said Nathan, “thee shall know all, if thee will have patience, and hold thee tongue.  Truly, the many things thee says doth perplex me.  If thee loves thee poor kinswoman, and would save her from cruel bondage and sorrow, thee must be quiet till I have put thee again upon thee legs; which is the first thing to be thought about:  and after that, thee shall have my counsel and help to do what is good and proper for the maiden’s redeeming.”