aid she, making a mark with the blood on his wrist, "it is
thus the Arabs register the fidelity of him who is to avenge them. You
will not fail me, will you?"

"Never, by this hand!" cried he, holding it up firmly clenched over his
head.

"It's the Arab's faith, that if he wash away the stain before the depth
of vengeance is acquitted, he is dishonored; there's a rude chivalry in
the notion that I like well." She said this in his ear as he raised her
from the ground and placed her on a chair. "It is time you should know
his name," said she, after a few minutes' pause. "He is called Ludlow
Paten. I believe he is Captain Paten about town."

"I know him by repute. He's a sort of swell at the West-End play clubs.
He is amongst all the fast men."

"Oh, he's fashionable,--he's very fashionable."

"I have heard him talked of scores of times as one of the pleasantest
fellows to be met with."

"I 'm certain of it. I feel assured that he must be a cheerful
companion, and reasonably honest and loyal in his dealings with man. He
is of a class that reserve all their treachery and all their baseness
for where they can be safely practised; and, strange enough, men of
honor know these things,--men of unquestionable honor associate freely
with fellows of this stamp, as if the wrong done to a woman was a venial
offence, if offence at all."

"The way of the world," said OShea, with a half sigh.

"Pleasant philosophy that so easily accounts for every baseness and even
villany by showing that they are popular. But come, let us be practical.
What's to be done here?--what do you suggest?"

"Give me the right to deal with him, and leave the settlement to _me_."

"The right--that is--" She hesitated, flushed up for an instant, and
then grew lividly pale again.

"Yes," said he, taking his place at her side, and leaning an arm on the
back of her chair, "I thought I never saw your equal when you were gay
and light-hearted, and full of spirits; but I like you better, far
better now, and I 'd rather face the world with you than--"

"I don't want to deceive you," said she, hurriedly, and her lips
quivered as she spoke; "but there are things which I cannot tell
you,--things of which I could not speak to any one, least of all to him
who says he is willing to share his fate with me. It is a hard condition
to make, and yet I must make it."

"Put your hand in mine, then, and I 'll take you on any conditions you
like."

"One word more bef