“O, sir,” exclaimed the girl, “can you tell me anything about Philip?  Have you entreated the Governor, as you promised, to let him out of that dreadful dungeon?”

“It is a horrid place,” said Spikeman, “and men live not long who are confined therein.  If the soldier be imprisoned there a few days longer, he is no better than a dead man.  Vain has been my intercession, though I despair not.”

He paused to watch the effect of what he had said upon the girl.  She turned deadly pale, and seemed about to sink upon the floor.  Spikeman took her hand, which she no longer withdrew, but yielded passively, as if in a state of stupefaction, and pressing it within his own, led her to a sofa.

“Lovely Prudence,” he said, “thou hast found favor in my eyes.  Let not the distance betwixt us overawe thee.  These worldly distinctions are but the inventions of men to suit a purpose, and there are times when they are more easily torn away than the withes of the Philistines on the hands of Samson.  Dost thou comprehend me?”

Prudence raised her eyes, and fixed them with a bewildered stare upon his face.  She was so terrified at the thought of the danger to which the soldier was exposed, and her mind so confused by the unusual language of her master, that she was as much in a dreaming as a waking state.  Her lips quivered as she attempted to reply, but they made no sound, and tears began to steal down.

“Would that I could stop the current of these tears, more precious than orient pearls,” sighed Spikeman.  “Ask of me any other favor, and I will move heaven and earth but it shall be granted.”

“O, sir, said Prudence,” sliding off from the sofa in spite of his efforts to prevent her, and kneeling at his feet, “I have no other favor to ask; but if you are truly willing to show kindness to a poor girl like me, take Philip out of prison.”

“But is it so light a thing to be done, sweet Prudence?” replied Spikeman, raising her in his arms, and straining her to his bosom before he replaced her on the sofa.  “Nay, kneel not again,” he added, seeing that she was about to resume her attitude of supplication; “that were a posture as fitting for me as for thee.”

“O, sir,” cried poor Prudence, “you are a great man, and can do whatever you please.  If you speak to the Governor again, he will let Philip out.  I am sure he meant nothing wrong.  I am certain they told wicked lies about him.”

“Truly will I remonstrate again,” said Spikeman.  “So great is my regard for thee, I will risk losing his favor for thy sake.  But for all the sacrifices I make, what shall be thy return to me?”

“I will pray night and day for you; I will be your slave; I will worship the ground on which you tread.”

“Sweet maiden,” said Spikeman, passing his arm around her waist, “I ask not so much.  I ask thee only to be happy with me.  Thy prayers, though rising like morning incense, I need not.  I would rather be thy slave than have thee mine, and I worship thee already.  Turn not away thy cheek, but let me greet thee with the kiss of charity.”