"Nevertheless," he replied, and there was almost desperation in his tone: "I feel that it will prove the most terrible misfortune of my life. Ella may never be herself again, and I have wronged one to whom I can never make reparation—a noble, generous boy who has taken a revenge like himself, but which is scorching my very soul."
"You are noble yourself, captain, or you wouldn't feel it so keenly," was the gentle reply.
Mrs. Bodine, without waiting for explanations, peremptorily ordered that Ella should be carried to her room. The veteran, using a second pair of crutches which he kept in reserve, went to the adjoining apartment, buried his face in his hands, and groaned audibly. He knew not how to perform one imperative and pressing duty, that of relating to Mr. Houghton what had happened.
Aware of what was on his mind, Mara came to him and said, "I will go and tell his father."
"God bless you, Mara, for the offer. I would rather face death than that old man, but it is my duty and I alone must do it. Hard as it is, it is not so terrible as the thought that the poor boy died for me and mine, and that I can never make the acknowledgment which his heroic self-sacrifice deserves. It would have been heroic in any man, but in him whom I had treated with such bitter scorn and enmity—How can I meet Ella's eyes again! Oh, I fear, I fear all this will destroy her!"
"Courage, my friend," said Mara, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Ella will live to comfort you."
"Mara, you will not fail me?"
"No, I will not fail you."
He pressed her hand to his lips, and then she returned to Ella.
Mrs. Hunter and old Hannah removed the poor girl's wet garments and applied restoratives. The invalid, whose strength and spirit rose with the emergency, directed their efforts, meantime listening to the fragmentary explanations which were possible at such a time.