And there was reason for this, as Dorothy did not speak, and stood motionless, her hands clasped in front of her, while she looked at him with an expression he seemed unable to define. Washington's face had grown less severe as he noted all this; and while the two still remained gazing at one another, his voice broke the silence. "The cause of your presence in this neighborhood, Captain Southorn, which your gallantry forbade you to explain, even in the face of an ignominious death, has been revealed to me by one whose truth and fidelity no human being should know better than yourself. She has told me that which leads me to take upon myself the responsibility of clearing you from the very grave suspicions aroused by your action of last night, and of holding you simply as a prisoner of war. For all this, you have Mistress Dorothy to thank--for your life and your restored honor." No pen can describe the emotions of the two listeners as they heard these words, nor could any pencil portray the reflection of these emotions upon their faces. Southorn's expression was that of thankfulness, mingled with amazement,--doubt, as though he feared the treachery of his own senses, while Dorothy's face became all aglow with delight and triumph at her success. The young man stepped impetuously toward Washington, and was about to speak, but the latter raised his hand. "You, sir, as an officer of the King," he said gravely, "know the weight of such a debt as this, and no words of mine can add to the sense of your obligation to her. This being so," and he glanced from one to the other of them, while the suggestion of a smile relieved the sternness of his face, "I will leave you with her for a short time, in order that you may express your gratitude in fitting terms, while I consider what course is best for me to pursue in carrying out the purpose I have in view." With this he arose from his chair, and bowing to them, withdrew to the inner room, closing the door after him. For a single moment there was silence between the two he had left alone, and no one could now accuse Dorothy of any lack of color in her cheeks. "Dorothy--sweetheart, what does all this mean?" The young man spoke in almost a whisper, looking at her as though she were a vision, a part of some strange dream. His voice faltered, and his eyes moved restlessly as he came toward her, walking slowly and uncertainly. But Dorothy, her wonted self-possession and courage now fully restored, did not wait for him to come to her. She advanced smilingly, her eyes alight with happiness, and laid both her hands within his. Then, while they stood face to face, she told him hurriedly of what she had done. While she was speaking, he looked at her in that same queer way, his eyes wandering over her face and figure, while now and again he pressed her little soft hands, as though to gain through them still greater assurance of the blessed reality.