"I can tell you many things," said she, soberly, "but I do not know which of them you want to hear. Ah, Ned, I can tell you that you have come into a girl's life to make her very happy and very much afraid. And that is a solemn thing; is it not?" "Yes," said he. "And I can tell you that this can never be undone. That is a solemn thing, too, is it not?" "Yes," said he. "And that, according as you treat her, this girl will believe or not believe in the goodness of all men or the badness of all men. Ah, Ned, a woman's heart is fragile, and mine is in your keeping." Her face was raised bravely and steadily to his. In the starlight it shone white and pathetic. And her eyes were two liquid wells of darkness in the shadow, and her half-parted lips were wistful and childlike. The man caught both her hands, again looking down on her. Then he answered her, solemnly and humbly. "Virginia," said he, "I am setting out on a perilous journey. As I deal with you, may God deal with me." "Ah, that is as I like you," she breathed. "Good-by," said he. She raised her lips of her own accord, and he kissed them reverently. "Good-by," she murmured. He turned away with an effort and ran down the beach to the canoe. "Good-by, good-by," she murmured, under her breath. "Ah, good-by! I love you! Oh, I do love you!" [Illustration: "GO HOME BEFORE THEY SEARCH THE WOODS." Scene from the play.] Then suddenly from the bushes leaped dark figures. The still night was broken by the sound of a violent scuffle--blows--a fall. She heard Ned Trent's voice calling to her from the _melee_. "Go back at once!" he commanded, clearly and steadily. "You can do no good. I order you to go home before they search the woods." But she crouched in dazed terror, her pupils wide to the dim light. She saw them bind him, and stand waiting; she saw a canoe glide out of the darkness; she saw the occupants of the canoe disembark; she saw them exhibit her little rifle, and heard them explain in Cree, that they had followed the man swimming. Then she knew that the cause was lost, and fled as swiftly as she could through the forest. _Chapter Fifteen_ Galen Albret had chosen to interrogate his recaptured prisoner alone. He sat again in the arm-chair of the Council Room. The place was flooded with sun. It touched the high-lights of the time-darkened, rough furniture, it picked out the brasses, it glorified the whitewashed walls. In its uncompromising illumination Me-en-gan, the bowsman, standing straight and tall and silent by the door, studied his master's face and knew him to be deeply angered.