"Heaven forbid," answered Reynolds, with energy, "that I should think thus of all, or judge any too harshly!—but there may be causes to force one into the conviction, that the exceptions are too few to spoil the rule."
"I trust such is not your case," responded Ella, quickly, while her eyes rested on the other with a searching glance.
"No one is required to criminate himself in law," replied Reynolds, evasively, with a sigh; and then immediately added, as if anxious to change the topic: "But I am eager for you to inform me what I said during my delirium."
"O, many things," returned Ella, "the half of which I could not repeat; but more particularly you spoke of troubles at home, and often repeated the name of Elvira with great bitterness. Then you would run on incoherently, for some time, about pistols, and swords, and end by saying that the quarrel was just—that you were provoked to it, until it became almost self defence—and that if he died, his blood would be on his own head."
"Good heavens, Ella! did I indeed say this?" exclaimed Reynolds, with a start, while his features became deadly pale. "Did I say more? did I mention further particulars?—speak! tell me—tell me truly!"
"Not in my hearing," answered Ella, while her own face blanched at the sudden vehemence of the other.
"Well, well, do not be alarmed!" said Reynolds, evidently somewhat relieved, and softening his voice, as he noticed the change in her countenance; "people sometimes say strange things, when reason, the great regulator of the tongue, is absent. What construction did you put upon my words, Ella?"
"Why, in sooth," replied Ella, watching his features closely as she spoke, "I thought nothing of them, other than to suppose you might formerly have had some trouble; and that in the chaos of wild images crowding your brain, after being attacked and wounded by savages, it was natural some of these image should be of a bloody nature."
"Then you did not look upon the words as having reference to a reality."
"No! at the time I did not."