"Yes, I am innocent in thought, in intent, and in heart; but as for the deed itself, I know not." "I do not understand you," she said; "you speak in words that convey no meaning to my mind. Will you explain?" "I cannot, Miss Forrest. I would give all I possess if I could. I have nothing that I would keep secret from you, and yet I cannot tell you that which you would know." Did she understand me? Did her quick mind guess my condition? I could not tell, and yet a strange look of intelligence flashed from her eyes. "Mr. Blake," she said, "my soul loathes the thought of marrying that man. If ever my promise has to be fulfilled, I shall die the very day on which he calls me wife." My heart gave a great throb of joy; her every word gave me hope in spite of myself. "Mr. Blake," she continued, "I never must marry him." "God grant you may not," I said. "I must not," she said, "and you must keep me from danger." "I, Miss Forrest! I would give the world if I could: but how can I? You do not know the terrible slavery that binds me, neither can I tell you." "I shall trust in you to deliver me from this man," she went on without heeding me. "You must prove yourself to be innocent." "To do that I must bring this man Kaffar. I know nothing of him. I could never find him. Oh, I tell you, Miss Forrest, a thousand evil powers seem to rend me when I attempt to do what I long for." "I shall trust in you," she cried. "Surely you are sufficiently interested in me to save me from a man like Voltaire?" "Interested?" I cried. "I would die for you, I love you so. And yet I can do nothing." "You can do something; you can do everything. You can save me from him." "Oh," I cried, "I know I must appear a pitiful coward to you. It is for me you have placed yourself in this position, while I refuse to try to liberate you from it. If I only could; if I dared! But I am chained on every hand." "But you are going to break those chains; you are going to be free; you are going to be happy." Her words nerved me. The impossible seemed possible, and yet everything was misty. "Only one thing can make me happy," I said, "and that can never be now. I have lost my strength; I am become a pitiful coward." "You are going to be happy!" she repeated. "Miss Forrest," I said, "do not mock me. My life for days has been a hell. I have had a terrible existence; no light shines in the sky. You cannot think what your words mean to me, or you would not speak them." "Will you not, for my sake, if not for your own, exert yourself? Will you not think of my happiness a little? The thought of marrying that man is madness." "Miss Forrest," I cried, "you must think I have lost all manhood, all self-respect, when you hear what I say; but the only thing that could make me think of trying to do what is ten thousand times my duty to do, is that you will give me some hope that, if I should succeed, you will be the wife of such a poor thing as I am."