“May I inquire what is your reply?” asked Arundel.

“How canst thou doubt?  Surely, where honor and good deeds invite, no true knight can turn back.”

“I am to understand, then, that you have accepted the office of mediator?”

“I have accepted the trust, hoping that good may grow out thereof.”

“And when is it you purpose to depart?”

“Incontinently.  The matter brooks no delay.”

“Then have I a petition to prefer, which, I hope, will meet with the same favor as the Governor’s.  Let me attend thee on this journey.”

The suddenness of the request appeared to embarrass the Knight for an instant; but it was only for an instant.

“Hast thou fully considered,” he asked, “the perils whereunto thou dost expose thy young life?  What would be the condition of Eveline Dunning shouldst thou never return?”

“My life is not more valuable than thine, and the situation of Eveline would be no worse than that of thine own relative.”

“Aye, but consider the difference in our positions.  Glory, duty, summon me irresistibly; whereas, thou hast no calling other than curiosity.”

“Say not so,” exclaimed the young man, with feeling.  “I will not deny the motive assigned; but believe me there are others, whereof you would not disapprove.”

“May I know them?”

“Needs it that I should say how greatly I admire thee; how gladly I would follow in thy knightly footsteps; how any peril would be welcome, if partaken with thee?”

Sir Christopher turned away.  “I did not think,” he said to himself, “his affection was so great.”

“Master Arundel,” he replied, walking back, “I do prize thy friendship more than precious jewels; but I were untrue to that love, should I expose thee to danger.  For myself, I were a recreant, and no knight, could I, because of danger, refuse to obey a call to benefit my fellow-men; but, for thee, it is a reckless and unneeded temptation of peril.  Deem me not unkind, but think it is my love and anxiety that speak in your behalf.”

“It is the first request I have made to thee,” said Arundel, “and, if refused, it shall be the last.  I shall be compelled to believe you consider me unworthy of your friendship, too effeminate to bear a walk of a few days in the forest, and unreliable in the hour of trial.”

The voice of the young man trembled, and his whole manner betrayed his wounded feelings.

“Hear me, my young friend,” urged the Knight; “hast thou well weighed the terrors thou wouldst seek?  It is not merely death thou dost defy; but, holy Mary, holy angels, what a death!  Canst thou endure to have thy tender flesh pierced with splintered sticks; thine eyes torn from the sockets; the flames greedily dashing over thy head, and licking up, as with the forked tongues of serpents, thy blood, hissing as it drops upon the glowing brands?  And this for the poor satisfaction of being with me; for thou canst not afford protection, should the Indians attempt outrage.  Alas! how bitterly would the sorrow of my own fate be enhanced by the consciousness of thine!”