"Oh, you do well to accuse him," I went on, bitterly,--perhaps not very relevantly. "You shall not dishonour him by touching him, you, who can believe vile lies of the loyal gentleman who loves you, and has, it may be, given his life for the girl who now insults him." The girl's face was now in such a confusion of distress that I almost, but not quite, pitied her. Ere she could find words to reply, however, her sister was at her side, catching her hands, murmuring at her ear. "Why, Prudence, child," she said, "don't you see it all? Didn't you see it all? How splendidly Marc saved us" (I blessed the tact which led her to put the first credit on Marc)--"Marc and this most brave and gallant gentleman? It was one of the savages who struck Marc down, before my eyes, as he was fighting to save us. That dreadful story was a lie, Prudence; don't you see?" The maid saw clearly enough, and with a mighty gladness. She was for throwing herself down again beside the lad to cover his face with kisses--and shut off the air which he so needed. But I thrust her aside. She had believed Marc a traitor. Marc might forgive her when he could think for himself. I was in no mind to. She looked at me with unutterable reproach, her eyes filling and running over, but she drew back submissively. "I know," she said, "I don't deserve that you should let me go near him. But--I think--I think he would want me to, sir! See, he wants me! Oh, let me!" And I perceived that Marc's eyes had opened. They saw no one but the maid, and his left hand reached out to her. "Oh, well!" said I, grimly. And thereafter it seemed to me that the lad got on with less air than men are accustomed to need when they would make recovery from a swoon. I turned to Mizpah Hanford; and I wondered what sort of eyes were in Marc's head, that he should see Prudence when Mizpah was by. Before I could speak, Mizpah began to make excuses for her sister. With heroic fortitude she choked back her own grief, and controlled her voice with a brave simplicity. Coming from her lips, these broken excuses seemed sufficient--though to this day I question whether I ought to have relented so readily. She pleaded, and I listened, and was content to listen so long as she would continue to plead. But there was little I clearly remember. At last, however, these words, with which she concluded, aroused me:--