But here his fortitude failed him, his spirit was shaken in its present feeble state, and he turned his face away to the wall. Annabel hastened her daughter out of the room and followed her immediately. "The poor young man is reduced to the utmost weakness," she presently told her husband. "He must have all the strong and sustaining fare that we can bestow upon him to restore his masculine serenity. 'Twas he whose chisel nearly destroyed dear Gracie, and when he saw her and thought upon it, he hid his face to weep. 'Twas a pitiful sight--happily only seen by women." "Death came so nigh that it robbed him of manhood--if Americans have manhood--yet just missed to grasp at his life. We must restore him to health and to prison as quickly as may be. There is wine in my cellar--an elixir beyond reach of any now, for none remains in the market. He shall be free of it. Yet I hate to think that even in the name of humanity we have suffered an American to cross this threshold." "Our country's enemy, father, not ours," said Grace. "And since when were my country's enemies not mine, chit?" he asked. "Yet you praised Monsieur Marliac, who is on parole at Ashburton, for his riding in that noble run before the ill weather." "His riding, yes; not him. He happens to be a marvellous fine horseman with British resource and courage. Some Englishman doubtless taught him. Have done with that. When this boy returned to consciousness, my first demand upon him was that he should give me his parole. Needless to say, he instantly agreed to do so." The baying of a hound, the shrill barking of two terriers, and the murmur of men's voices came through the window. Other sounds there were not, for the snow had long muffled up the earth and made its frozen surface dumb. Glancing out of the casement, Malherb saw the sight that he awaited, bade Grace and her mother retire, then solemnly went forth uncovered to meet the dead.