The heart of Katharine was one of deep-seated tenderness, and it may not be easy to describe the shock which the intelligence gave her. She did not hear him through without ejaculations of horror, sufficiently fervent and loud to provoke the glance of her mother, who did not, however, though turning her looks frequently upon the two, venture upon any inquiry, or offer any remark. The girl heard her lover patiently; but when he narrated the catastrophe, and told of the murder of the guard, she no longer struggled to restrain the feeling, now too strong for suppression. Her words broke through her lips quickly, as she exclaimed-- "But you, Mark--you had no part in this matter--you lent no aid--you gave no hand. You interfered, I am sure you did, to prevent the murder of the innocent men. Speak out, Mark, and tell me the truth, and relieve me from these horrible apprehensions." As she spoke, her small hand rested upon his wrist with a passionate energy, in full accordance with the spirit of her language. The head of the unhappy man sank upon his breast; his eyes, dewily suffused, were cast upon the floor, and he spoke nothing, or inarticulately, in reply. "What means this silence--what am I to believe--what am I to think, Mark Forrester? You can not have given aid to those bad men, whom you yourself despise. You have not so far forgotten yourself and me as to go on with that wicked man Rivers, following his direction, to take away life--to spill blood as if it were water! You have not done this, Mark. Tell me at once that I am foolish to fear it for an instant--that it is not so." He strove, but in vain, to reply. The inarticulate sounds came forth chokingly from his lips without force or meaning. He strode impatiently up and down the apartment, followed by the young and excited maiden, who unconsciously pursued him with repeated inquiries; while her mother, awakened to the necessity of interference, vainly strove to find a solution of the mystery, and to quiet both of the parties. "Will you not speak to me, Mark? Can you not, will you not answer?" The unhappy man shook his head, in a perplexed and irritated manner, indicating his inability to reply--but concluding with pointing his finger impatiently to Ralph, who stood up, a surprised and anxious spectator of the scene. The maiden seemed to comprehend the intimation, and with an energy and boldness that would not well describe her accustomed habit--with a hurried step, crossed the apartment to where stood the youth. Her eye was quick and searching--her words broken, but with an impetuous flow, indicating the anxiety which, while it accounted for, sufficiently excused the abruptness of her address, she spoke:-- "Do, sir, say that he had no hand in it--that he is free from the stain of blood! Speak for him, sir, I pray you; tell me--he will not tell himself!" The old lady now sought to interpose, and to apologize for her daughter.