"God bless you, Mara, for the offer. I would rather face death than that old man, but it is my duty and I alone must do it. Hard as it is, it is not so terrible as the thought that the poor boy died for me and mine, and that I can never make the acknowledgment which his heroic self-sacrifice deserves. It would have been heroic in any man, but in him whom I had treated with such bitter scorn and enmity--How can I meet Ella's eyes again! Oh, I fear, I fear all this will destroy her!" "Courage, my friend," said Mara, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Ella will live to comfort you." "Mara, you will not fail me?" "No, I will not fail you." He pressed her hand to his lips, and then she returned to Ella. Mrs. Hunter and old Hannah removed the poor girl's wet garments and applied restoratives. The invalid, whose strength and spirit rose with the emergency, directed their efforts, meantime listening to the fragmentary explanations which were possible at such a time. "Oh, just God!" she exclaimed, "we are punished, terribly punished for our thoughts and actions toward that poor boy. Ella, dear child, was right after all, and we all wrong. She might well love such a hero." At last Ella gave signs of returning consciousness. Mrs. Bodine hastened to the captain, and said: "Cousin Hugh, Ella is reviving. You must control yourself. Everything depends on how we tide her over the next few hours." The length of the swoon revealed the force of the blow which the loving girl had received. Perhaps the long oblivion was nature's kindly effort to ward off the crushing weight. Mrs. Bodine hung over her when she opened her eyes with a dazed expression. "There, Ella dear," she said, "don't worry. You'll soon be better. Take this," and she gave the girl a little brandy and water. The powerful stimulant acted speedily on an unvitiated system, and with returning strength memory recalled what had befallen the one she loved. From tears she passed to passionate sobs, writhing and moaning, as if the agony of her spirit had communicated itself to every fibre of her body. "Oh, Ella, darling, don't," cried her father. "I cannot endure this. He has conquered me utterly; my prejudice is turned into homage. We will all love and revere his memory. Would to God it had been I instead of him!" "There, Hugh, thank God," said Mrs. Bodine, "that Ella can weep. Such tears keep the heart from breaking." The old lady was right. Expression of her anguish brought alleviation, and there was also consolation in her father's words. The physician came, and his remedies also had their effect.