Holding him there still with that strong
pressure of his sinewy hands, he swore a great oath that rolled like
thunder down the hard, keen air.
"You! perishing here! If they send their shots through you, they shall
reach me first in their passage! O Heaven! Why have you lived like this?
Why have you been lost to me, if you were dead to all the world beside?"
They were the words that his sister had spoken. Cecil's white lips
quivered as he heard them; his voice was scarcely audible as it panted
through them.
"I was accused--"
"Aye! But by whom? Not by me! Never by me!"
Cecil's eyes filled with slow, blinding tears; tears sweet as a woman's
in her joy, bitter as a man's in his agony. He knew that in this one
heart at least no base suspicion ever had harbored; he knew that this
love, at least, had cleaved to him through all shame and against all
evil.
"God reward you!" he murmured. "You have never doubted?"
"Doubted? Was your honor not as my own?"
"I can die at peace then; you know me guiltless--"
"Great God! Death shall not touch you. As I stand here not a hair of
your head shall be harmed--"
"Hush! Justice must take its course. One thing only--has she heard?"
"Nothing. She has left Africa. But you can be saved; you shall be saved!
They do not know what they do!"
"Yes! They but follow the sentence of the law. Do not regret it. It is
best thus."
"Best!--that you should be slaughtered in cold blood!" His voice was
hoarse with the horror which, despite his words, possessed him.
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