"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." I felt her hand touch mine as if in sudden sympathy.
"Monsieur," she spoke gravely, "love has never been kind to me, and I have learned to put small trust in the word as it finds easy utterance upon men's lips.

A man swore once, even at the altar, that he loved me; and when he had won my heart he left me for another.

If I believed you were such a man I would rather leave this girl to her fate among the savages yonder." "I am not of that school," I protested earnestly.

"I am of a race that love once and forever.

But you, who are you?
Why are you here in the midst of these savages?
You bear a strange likeness to her I would save, but for the lighter shade of your hair." She drew back slightly, removing her hand from mine, but with gentleness.
"It would do you little good to know my story," She said firmly.