l was
confronted by the Assistant. Surprise and indignation were both
expressed in the countenance of Spikeman, as he demanded to what
circumstance he was indebted for the honor of the young man's company.

"Master Spikeman knows," answered Arundel, "without any averment on my
part, that I came not to see him."

"It needs no declaration of thine to assure me of that," said
Spikeman.

"I do nought," said Arundel, "which I will not avouch by both deeds
and words. Plainly, I came to see Mistress Eveline Dunning, and
strange indeed would it be, were I in this strange land to avoid her
presence."

"Speak out the whole truth," said Spikeman, with rising passion, "and
avow that like a thief thou didst steal in to corrupt the affections
of my ward, and teach her undutifulness to her guardian."

Before the young man could reply, Eveline interposed.

"You do Master Arundel wrong, sir," she said, "to charge him with
aught unbecoming. He comes hither in open day, and that by my special
invitation."

The eyes of the spirited girl flashed, and her cheeks were crimson, as
she made the avowal.

"This from you, Eveline Dunning," exclaimed Spikeman, with
ill-suppressed rage. "Have you so far forgotten the modesty of your
sex as to make this declaration in public? I knew before, that this
boy had bewitched you, but dreamed not that he had triumphed over all
maidenly reserve."

There was something insufferably insulting, both in the tone and in
the insinuation concealed in the language, which was not entirely
understood by the pure mind of Eveline, but which was maddening to her
lover.

"Only a base ingrate and liar," he cried, "would slander celestial
purity. Master Spikeman knows that what he utters is false."

"Ha! darest thou, malapert boy," said Spikeman, advancing to Arundel
with his arm raised, as if about to strike; but Waqua stepped between
them. He had gravely listened to the heated conversation, and supposed
he understood its purport.

"Let not the wise white man," he said, addressing Spikeman, "imitate a
mad wolf in his anger. Give to my brother for his wife the girl whose
cheeks are like the summer morning, for her heart has hid itself in
his bosom."

The fury of Spikeman, thus bearded in his own house, was now directed
to the savage. Anger appeared to have completely deprived him of
reason, for turning upon the Indian with glaring eyes and exerting his
strength to the utmost, he hurled him with irresistible