As he staggered with her to a sofa and laid her softly down, he seemed another man in look and bearing; and Mr.Gryce, who had been watching the whole wonderful event with the strongest interest, understood at once the meaning of the change which had come over his prisoner at that point in his memorable arrest when he first realized that it was for himself they had come, and not for the really guilty person, the idolized object of his affections.
Meanwhile, he was facing them all, with one hand laid tenderly on that unconscious head.
"Do not think," he cried, "that because this young girl has steeped her hand in blood, she is a wicked woman.

There is no purer heart on earth than hers, and none more worthy of the worship of a true man.

See! she killed my brother, son of my father, beloved by my mother, yet I can kiss her hand, kiss her forehead, her eyes, her feet, not because I hate him, but because I worship her, the purest--the best----" He left her, and came and stood before those astonished men.

"Sirs!" he cried, "I must ask you to listen to a strange, a terrible tale.".