"Would you like to be loosed?" she asked, coming nearer. "Shall I cut your bonds?"
She spoke in a low whisper.
"Oh, tell me first, I implore you! Can you forgive me?"
He spoke in such a piteous tone that her heart was touched.
"Forgive you?" she said, in a voice full of sympathy and pity. "There is nothing for me to forgive."
"Now may Heaven forever bless you for that sweet and gentle word!" said Dacres, who altogether misinterpreted her words, and the emphasis she placed on them; and in his voice there was such peace, and such a gentle, exultant happiness, that Mrs. Willoughby again felt touched.
"Poor fellow!" she thought; "how he must have suffered!"
"Where are you fastened?" she whispered, as she bent over him. Dacres felt her breath upon his cheek; the hem of her garment touched his sleeve, and a thrill passed through him. He felt as though he would like to be forever thus, with her bending over him.
"My hands are fastened behind me," said he.
"I have a knife," said Mrs. Willoughby. She did not stop to think of danger. It was chiefly pity that incited her to this. She could not bear to see him lying thus in pain, which he had perhaps, as she supposed, encountered for her. She was impulsive, and though she thought of his assistance toward the escape of Minnie and herself, yet pity and compassion were her chief inspiring motives.