“Keep your hands off her,” said Northmour fiercely. “Do you think I have no blood in my veins?” “Northmour,” I cried, “if you will neither help her yourself, nor let me do so, do you know that I shall have to kill you?” “That is better!” he cried. “Let her die also, where’s the harm? Step aside from that girl! and stand up to fight” “You will observe,” said I, half rising, “that I have not kissed her yet.” “I dare you to,” he cried. I do not know what possessed me; it was one of the things I am most ashamed of in my life, though, as my wife used to say, I knew that my kisses would be always welcome were she dead or living; down I fell again upon my knees, parted the hair from her forehead, and, with the dearest respect, laid my lips for a moment on that cold brow. It was such a caress as a father might have given; it was such a one as was not unbecoming from a man soon to die to a woman already dead. “And now,” said I, “I am at your service, Mr. Northmour.” But I saw, to my surprise, that he had turned his back upon me. “Do you hear?” I asked. “Yes,” said he, “I do. If you wish to fight, I am ready. If not, go on and save Clara. All is one to me.” I did not wait to be twice bidden; but, stooping again over Clara, continued my efforts to revive her. She still lay white and lifeless; I began to fear that her sweet spirit had indeed fled beyond recall, and horror and a sense of utter desolation seized upon my heart. I called her by name with the most endearing inflections; I chafed and beat her hands; now I laid her head low, now supported it against my knee; but all seemed to be in vain, and the lids still lay heavy on her eyes. “Northmour,” I said, “there is my hat. For God’s sake bring some water from the spring.” Almost in a moment he was by my side with the water. “I have brought it in my own,” he said. “You do not grudge me the privilege?” “Northmour,” I was beginning to say, as I laved her head and breast; but he interrupted me savagely. “Oh, you hush up!” he said. “The best thing you can do is to say nothing.” I had certainly no desire to talk, my mind being swallowed up in concern for my dear love and her condition; so I continued in silence to do my best towards her recovery, and, when the hat was empty, returned it to him, with one word—“More.” He had, perhaps, gone several times upon this errand, when Clara reopened her eyes. “Now,” said he, “since she is better, you can spare me, can you not? I wish you a good night, Mr. Cassilis.” And with that he was gone among the thicket. I made a fire, for I had now no fear of the Italians, who had even spared all the little possessions left in my encampment; and, broken as she was by the excitement and the hideous catastrophe of the evening, I managed, in one way or another—by persuasion, encouragement, warmth, and such simple remedies as I could lay my hand on—to bring her back to some composure of mind and strength of body.