There was not a sound or a movement. Where had he seen her last? Ah! to be sure; under the churchyard gateway, screening him from the gun that was pointed at his brain. That ghastly moment came back to him with all its terrors. For his sake she had flung herself on the murderer; for his sake risked her life. And how had he rewarded her? He had pushed carelessly past her; consigned her to the mercy of the murderous, bloodthirsty crew who were greedy to take her life, without a shadow of a thought of how he might save her troubling him for an instant. Even if she were the most abandoned creature on the face of the earth, she had not deserved such dastardly treatment at his hands. Certainly she had not. "Regina, wake up." He bent over her and raised her, but her head fell back lifeless among the bushes. There was blood on his fingers from touching her. Her hair was damp and matted. Was she dead? No; it must not, could not be. Sacrificed for him; that would mean adding original guilt to the sin he had inherited, and the idea of owing so much to such a degraded creature, was in the last degree humiliating. She must at least live till he had paid her. He tore open her chemise with a rough, eager hand, and laid his ear on the cool, rounded breast. God be praised! Her heart was still beating. And as he raised her once more, she slowly opened her great eyes and looked round her vacantly. As if shocked at being caught holding her thus, he let her head slip out of his arms. She moaned slightly as she sank back, for the swaying briars hurt her. Then regaining consciousness, she lifted herself on her elbow and gazed at him in dumb inquiry. "Get up, Regina," he said. The sound of his voice made her tremble. She tried to struggle on to her feet, but fell back helplessly. "Let me lie where I am," she begged, with a timid, imploring glance. "Stand up. I will help you." "Must I go?" she asked, evading the proffered support. Grief and anxiety were depicted on her blood-stained, beautiful face. "You would rather stay with me?" "Ah, _Herr_, how can you ask?" "But you'll have a bad time of it if you do." "Oh, no, _Herr_. The _gnädiger Herr_ used to whip me every day. I am quite accustomed to it." "But somewhere else they would treat you better." "Somewhere else?" New consternation showed itself on her features. "Good God! A woman like you, who is willing and hard-working, and has such strong limbs, is sure----" She shook her head violently. "I shouldn't go far, _Herr_. If you hunt me away, I shall only lie down in a ditch and starve to death." A softer look came into his eyes. No matter how bad, stupid, and corrupt she might be, she was the only human being in the wide world who clung to him. Why should he drive her from his threshold, when he himself was despised, ostracised, and a social outcast? Were they not both under the ban of the same misfortune? CHAPTER VIII