“Yes; for that reason I will requite the scars you yourself bear. The scourger shall be scourged.”
“Would you not do her bidding, could you hear it; and can you doubt that she would say, Forgive?”
Vance recoiled for a moment, then replied: “You have used the last appeal; but ’ will not serve. My wrongs I can forgive. Yours I can forgive. But hers, never! Once more I say, Stand aside!”
“You shall not give him another blow,” said Peek.
“Shall not?”
And before he could offer any resistance Peek had been thrown to the other side of the room so as to fall backward on his hands.
Then, in a moment, Vance seemed to regret the act. He jumped forward, helped the negro up, begged his pardon, saying: “Forgive me, my dear, dear Peek! Have your own way. Do with this man as you like. Haven’t you the right? Didn’t you once save my life? Are you hurt? Do you forgive me?” And the tears sprang to Vance’s eyes.
“No harm done, Mr. Vance! But you are quick as lightning.”
“Look at me, Peek. Let me see from your face that I’m forgiven.”
And Peek turned on him such an expression, at once tender and benignant, that Vance, seeing they understood each other, was reassured.