A deeper pallor overspread the pale face of the lady, but recovering herself she said—­

“If I understand thee aright, thou dost seek to make me an accomplice of thy crime.”

“It is no crime, but an acceptable deed, to deliver a criminal to justice, to suffer for his deserts.  On such conditions, and on such only, can I promise immunity for thyself.”

“Justice!  I trust not the justice of a State, where such as thou bear rule.  Ye know not the meaning of the word.  Sacred heaven! what would you have me do?  Betray into your toils an innocent man, that I may avoid, I know not what consequences!  Infamous tempter, I spurn thee!  And know, that were I capable of such inexpressible shame, I could not commit it.  I know not where is Sir Christopher.”

But, evidently, Spikeman placed no confidence in the denial.  He strode across the room, as though reflecting on some subject, and then stepping up to the lady, bent over, and whispered some inaudible words into her ear.

“It is false.  Holy Virgin!” she exclaimed, forgetting herself in the excitement of feeling, “must I bear this?  Leave me! leave me!  Rid me of your hateful presence!  The room is full of horrid shapes since you came in.”

“Ha! madam,” cried Spikeman, “you have betrayed yourself.  I have your secret, and will find means to force you to speak the truth, ere I am quit of you,” and scowling malignantly, he left the apartment.

The excitement which had hitherto sustained the lady, seemed now to desert her, and she sunk upon a seat.  Sobs broke from her bosom, and tears, which she vainly tried to restrain, streamed down her cheeks.

“O, holy Virgin,” she murmured—­“immaculate lady, whose heart was pierced with so many sorrows, help me to bear my own.  This is the sorest trial of all.  Without thy preventing grace, divine Mary, I shall sink under it.  Intercede with thy dear son for me.”

The little Indian girl, who, during the whole time while Spikeman remained, had stood by the lady’s side, showing no apprehension whatever, but listening attentively to every word, and following each motion with her keen eyes, now kneeled down by the lady, and looking into her face, said—­

“Do not cry, lady.  Owanux have not found the book with the pretty pictures, nor the man with the sweet face, with his eyes shut, and his head falling on one side, upon his shoulder, who makes Neebin feel like crying when she looks at him; and Sir Christopher is gone away, so that they cannot catch him.”

“Dear Neebin,” said the lady, “thine are timely words of consolation.  Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings,” she added, looking up, “dost thou ordain strength.  I will be grateful for these mercies, nor allow a weakness to overcome me again.”

The lady now, with more care, adjusted her garments, which, when wakened by the noise made at the entrance of the band into the house, she had hastily thrown on, and smoothed down the hair that, without a curl, lay on her temples.  She paid the same attention to Neebin, and then, crossing her hands, sat down to await what should follow.