“I am ready to prove myself worthy of her—ready to do anything that a man may do,” said Forrester.
“Anything?”
A shadow settled upon the young man’s eager face.
“I said anything that a man may do,” said he, and there was a catch of indecision in his voice.
“This matter needs a man that is not only strong and brave, but one that has a ready wit. For the service that I desire, rendered fully and unquestioningly, a man may command anything that is in my power to give.”
The shadow upon Forrester’s face grew deeper; the eyes that he turned upon Anna were dumbly piteous, like those of a dog. Then he spoke.
“You require violence,” said he, “and to me that is a thing of fear; it seems to draw a red curtain before my eyes; the very thought of it brings to me the thick scent of blood. It is a horror that I have had from birth. But outside all this, I am opposed to force. I could not lift my hand against the life of a fellow man.”
“No matter what the cause?”
“No matter what the cause. The sacred law says: ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ And the law of my physical nature tells me that I must obey.”
Silence followed this, save only for Anna’s sobbing. Kenyon looked at the speaker in keen surprise. He was thinking of the sharp cry and muffled blows of a half hour before and of Forrester’s preventing him from leaping to the rescue of the person attacked.