Vainly he shed tears of blood.

He felt her writhe and shudder in his arms.
And what could he do?
He strove to argue with her.

He strove to show her that accusation of her mother, condemnation of her mother, dreadful as they must be to her, so dreadful that he scarcely dared speak of them, need not involve her own condemnation.

She was young, of blameless life, and without enemies.

What could any cast up against her, what adduce in proof of a charge so dark, so improbable, so abnormal?
For answer she touched the pulsing wound in her cheek.
"And this ?" she said.