side can only
kill me once. You make me die a thousand deaths!"

"Ah, don't!" she whispered sharply. "Not now. First, I must believe
in you!"

He beat down the passion that dizzied him. He sought for her hand and
gripped it firmly. She allowed it. "Listen," he said. "Take me into
the light and look in my eyes."

Her hand turned in his and took command of it, drawing him after her.
Crossing the stair-hall they entered the dining-room. Colina closed
the door and lighted the lamp.

Ambrose gazed at her hungrily. She came to him straight and, offering
him both her hands, looked deep into his eyes.

"Now tell me," she murmured.

This was the real Colina, simple as a child. Her eyes--the lamp being
behind her--showed as deep and dark as the night sky.

Her lovely face yearned up to his, and Ambrose's self-command tottered
again--but this was no moment for passion. His voice shook, but his
eyes were as steady as hers.

"I love you," he said quietly. "When you hated me most I was doing the
best for you that I could. I--I'm afraid I sound like a prig. But it
is the truth. I stood out against you when I thought you were wrong
because I loved you!"

Her eyes fell. Her hands crept confidingly up his arms. "Ah! I want
so to believe it," she faltered.

He thought he had won her again. His arms swept around her, crushing
her to him. "My love!" he murmured.

She went slack in his arms and coldly averted her head. "Do not kiss
me," she said.

He instantly released her.

"It's not the time," she murmured. "It seems horrible to-night. I--I
am not ready. By what happens to-night I will know for always!"

"But, Colina--" he began.

She offered him her hand with a beseeching air. "I do not hate you any
more," she said quickly. "You have a lot to forgive in me, too. Be
merciful to me. Show me--to-night."

He drew a steadying breath. "Very well," he said. "I am contented."

CHAPTER XXV.

ACCUSED.

The long suspense wore terribly on the defenders of the house.

To wait inactive, listening to the frightful yelling and watching the
play of the fire, not knowing at what moment yelling, bullets, and fire
might be directed at themselves, was disorganizing to the stoutest
nerves.

When the attack should come all knew that their refuge was more like a
trap than a fortress. Ambrose wished to abandon the house for the
Catholic church up the river.

This little structure was stoutly built of s