But he shook off her grasp with such force and passion that she lost her balance and fell heavily to the floor.
Half stunned by the violence of the fall she lay quite still a moment, with closed eyes and gasping breath.
He looked at her as she lay there like a broken flower, but made no effort to assist her.
Presently the dark blue eyes flashed open and looked up at him with a quiet scorn in their lovely depths. She made no effort to rise, and when she spoke her voice startled him with its tragic ring.
"Finish your work, Colonel Carlyle," she said, in those deep tones. "I will thank you and bless you if you will strike one fatal blow that shall lay me dead at your feet."
Something in the words or the tone struck an arrow of remorse into his soul. He bent down and lifted the slight form, gently placing her back in her chair.
"Pardon me," he said, coldly, "I did not mean to hurt you, but you should not have touched me. I could not bear the touch of your hand."
She lifted her fair face and looked at him in wonder.
"Colonel Carlyle, what have I done to you?" she asked, in a voice of strange pathos.
"You have wronged me," he answered, bitterly.