"Oh, Archer, Archer Trevlyn!" she cried, imploringly, "grant me this one
favor--the very first I ever asked of you! For my sake, come away. He is
an old man. Leave him to God, and his own conscience. You are young and
strong; you would not disgrace your manhood by laying violent hands on
the weakness of old age!"
"Did you hear what he called my mother, the purest woman the world ever
saw? No man shall repeat that foul slander in my presence, and live!"
"He will not repeat it. Forgive him. He is fretful, and he thinks the
world has gone hard with him. He has sinned, and those who sin suffer
always. It has been a long and terrible feud between him and yours. I
brought you here--let me take you away."
Her soft hands were on his--her beautiful tear-wet eyes lifted to his
face. He could not withstand that look. He would have given up the plans
of a lifetime, if she had asked him with those imploring eyes.
"I yield to you, Miss Harrison--only to you," he replied. "If John
Trevlyn lives, he owes his life to you. He judged rightly--there was
murder in my soul, and he saw it in my eyes. Years ago, after they laid
my poor heart-broken mother out of my sight, I swore a terrible vow of
vengeance on the old man whose cruelty had hurried her into the grave.
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