There was that inaudible, invisible, motionless "movement," as some French reporters call it, of surprise throughout the assembly which communicates itself instinctively to a speaker.
"My own honour," I continued, "in the honour dearer and nearer to me even than my own. What the accused has spoken may or may not be true."
"It is true," interposed a Chief, probably pitying my ignorance.
"May be true," I continued, "though I will not believe it, to whomsoever his words may apply. That no such treason as they have suggested ever for one moment entered, or could enter, the heart of her who knelt with me, in presence of many now here, before that Throne, I will vouch by all the symbols we revere in common, and with the life which it seems is alone threatened by the feminine domestic treason alleged, from whomsoever that treason may proceed. I will accuse none, as I suspect none; but I will say that the charge might be true to the letter, and yet not touch, as I know it does not justly touch, the daughter of our Chief."
A deep relief was visible in the faces which had so lately been clouded by a suspicion terrible to all. Esmo's alone remained impassive throughout my vindication, as throughout the apparent accusation and silent condemnation of his daughter.
"Has any brother," he said, "counsel to speak respecting the question actually before us?"
One and all were silent, till Esmo again put the formal question:—
"Has he who was our brother betrayed the brotherhood?"
From every member of the assembly came a clear unmistakable assent.
"Is he outcast?"