"My grief is that since the day I gave John Alden my promise, you, sir, have been no more my friend, but ever looked upon me with coldness and disdain; and now that you go, it may be to your death, it breaketh my heart to have it so, and I fain would beg your forgiveness for aught I have done to offend you, though I know not what it may be." "Know not--well, well, let it pass--'t is but one more traverse. Yes child, I forgive thee for what to me seemed like something of scorn and slight, something of double dealing and treachery--nay, we'll say no more on 't. Here is my hand, Priscilla--and surely thy father's friend may for once taste thy cheek. Now child, we're friends and dear friends, and if yon savage sheathes his knife in my heart perhaps thou 'lt shed a tear or two, and say a prayer for the soul of--thy father's friend. And now thy petition, for time presses." "That thou wilt take John Alden with thee." "What then! Who shall read a woman's will aright! I left him at home for thy sake, Priscilla." "So I guessed and I thank you--nay, I thank you not for so misjudging me." And the fire in the hazel eyes upraised to his, dried the tears sharply. "Why, what now! Dost want thy troth-plight lover slain?" "No in truth, nor do I want my troth-plight friend, for thou art that now, slain; but neither do I want the one nor the other to lurk safely at home when his brothers are at the war. There's no coward's blood in my heart more than in yours, Captain Standish, and I care not to shelter any man behind my petticoats. I have not wed John Alden all this long year and more, because I would not wed with your frown black upon my heart, and I will not wed him now until he hath showed himself a man upon that same field whence you do not greatly care to come alive." "Nay, Priscilla, I care more now for life than I did an hour since, for I have a friend." "And you will take John, and if he comes home alive you'll smile upon our marriage?" "Yes girl, yes to both. God bless you, Priscilla, for a brave and true woman. And now--good-night." A moment later as the dark clad figure flitted down the hill Standish stood with bared head and fixed eyes silent for a little space, and then the boom of the sunset gun sounded in solemn Amen to the soldier's silent prayer. CHAPTER XXXIII. PECKSUOT'S KNIFE. The next morning as the village sat at breakfast, two men at half an hour's interval passed hastily down the forest trail, and entering the town sought the governor's house. The first was Wassapinewat, brother of Obtakiest, chief of the Neponsets, who, having suffered both wounds and terror in Corbitant's attempted rebellion, now hastened to turn State's evidence, and while warning the white men of his brother's intended attack wash his hands of any share in it.