"A maiden,—Elsa Matherson?"
"Nay, another; one I have learned to love so well that I now willingly risk even torture for her sake. You are a woman, and have a woman's heart; you exercise some strange power among these savages. I beg you to aid me."
She sat with clasped hands, her eyes lowered upon the grass.
"Whatsoever power I have comes from God," she said solemnly; "and there be times, such as now, when it seems as if He held me unworthy of His trust."
"But you will aid me in whatever way you can?"
"You are sure you love this maiden?"
"Would I be here, think you, otherwise?"
She did not answer immediately, but crept across the little space separating us until she could look more closely into my face, scanning it earnestly with her dark eyes.
"You have the appearance of a true man," she said finally. "Does the maid love you?"
"I know not," I stammered honestly, confused by so direct a question.
"I fear not; yet I would save her even then."