through which I bear this badge, this brand-stamp on my cheek—­he has come between my passion and its object—­nay, droop not—­I have no reference now to you, though you, too, have been won by his insidious attractions, while he gives you no thought in return—­he has done more than this, occasioned more than this, and wonder not that I had it in my heart at one moment to-night to put my dagger into your bosom, since through you it had been defrauded of its object.  But why tremble—­do you not tell me he is safe?”

“I do! and for this reason I tremble.  I tremble with joy, not fear.  I rejoice that through my poor help he is safe.  I did it all.  I sought him—­hear me, Guy Rivers, for in his safety I feel strong to speak—­I sought him even in his chamber, and felt no shame—­I led the way—­I guided him through all the avenues of the house—­when you ascended the stairs we stood over it in the closet which is at its head.  We beheld your progress—­saw, and counted every step you took; heard every word you uttered; and more than once, when your fiend soul spoke through your lips, in horrible threatenings, my hand arrested the weapon with which the youth whom you now seek would have sent you to your long account, with all your sins upon your head.  I saved you from his blow; not because you deserved to live, but because, at that moment, you were too little prepared to die.”

It would be difficult to imagine—­certainly impossible to describe, the rage of Rivers, as, with an excited spirit, the young girl, still trembling, as she expressed it, from joy, not fear, avowed all the particulars of Colleton’s escape.  She proceeded with much of the fervor and manner of one roused into all the inspiration of a holy defiance of danger:—­

“Wonder not, therefore, that I tremble—­my soul is full of joy at his escape.  I heed not the sneer and the sarcasm which is upon your lips and in your eyes.  I went boldly and confidently even into the chamber of the youth—­I aroused him from his slumbers—­I defied, at that moment of peril, what were far worse to me than your suspicions—­I defied such as might have been his.  I was conscious of no sin—­no improper thought—­and I called upon God to protect and to sanction me in what I had undertaken.  He has done so, and I bless him for the sanction.”

She sunk upon her knees as she spoke, and her lips murmured and parted as if in prayer, while the tears—­tears of gladness—­streamed warmly and abundantly from her eyes.  The rage of the outlaw grew momently darker and less governable.  The white foam collected about his mouth—­while his hands, though still retaining their gripe upon hers, trembled almost as much as her own.  He spoke in broken and bitter words.