With these words, the man raised his powerful fist. Bergan instinctively threw himself into the attitude of defence; but the ruffian's companion, who had edged behind him, caught hold of both his arms; and the unparried blow felled him senseless to the ground. II. SWIFT FEET. However cold a man's temperament may be by nature, however complete the subjection of his passions to his reason and his will, he is nearly certain, in the sudden excitement and confusion of detected guilt, to be betrayed into some act instantly condemned by his better judgment. Such had been the case with Doctor Remy, in his encounter with Hubert Arling at the "Rat-Hole." Mistaking Hubert for Bergan, and believing him to be there only to spy out his actions and thwart his designs, it had been his first impulse to draw the pistol, which he habitually carried, according to the custom of the times and locality, and free himself at once and forever from interference that he conceived to be so dangerous. His chagrin at finding that he had mistaken one brother for the other, was only equalled by his surprise at his calm dismissal and friendly warning, at Bergan's hands. It did not take him long to fix upon the hidden motive of this conduct,--to decide, with a bitter smile, that he had been spared for the sake of Carice. Yet he had no idea of the extent of Bergan's forbearance toward him on this head. It must be remembered that he never received the slightest intimation of Doctor Trubie's suspicions, or of Bergan's visit to Oakstead, on the night of the wedding. Godfrey Bergan had omitted any mention of either; first, because he had been prevented from doing so by the overwhelming distress and anxiety that had come upon him so suddenly; and afterward, because it had seemed wiser, on the whole, to say nothing. Doctor Remy, therefore, had no suspicion of the mine over which he had been standing, on that night, nor how its explosion had been averted. From his point of view, Bergan's sudden removal to Savalla, in consideration of the prospect there opened to him, was the most natural thing in the world. Nor did he know any reason why himself and his former friend should not meet on the old terms, upon occasion, except that the gain of the one had been the loss of the other, in respect to Carice. Even here, however, he held himself to be ostensibly blameless, inasmuch as womankind was proverbially fickle, and Bergan had no reason to suppose that he was aware of any relation between him and Carice other than the outward one. He deeply regretted, therefore, that in a moment of surprise and confusion, he should have put himself in a false position. It would have been far better to have met Bergan with the careless ease of a conscience void of offence. But, since he had not done so, it was well that Carice was his sufficient safeguard against retaliation.