It pulled him up short. He glanced at her with an odd smile, tender, bitter, and grim. "Charity!" he murmured. "Thanks, I have plenty of warm clothes, and so forth."

Colina bit her lip. There was a silence. He gazed at her hungrily.

She was so dear to him it was impossible for him to be otherwise than tender.

"Just the same, it was mighty good of you to come," he said.

"You said there was something I could do for you," she murmured.

"Please sit down."

She did so.

"I don't want to beg any personal favors," he said. "There is something you might do for the sake of justice."

"Never mind that," she said. "What is it?"

"Let me have a little pride, too," he said. "It isn't easy to ask favors of your enemies. I am surrounded by those who hate me and believe me guilty. Naturally, I stand as much chance of a fair trial as a spy in wartime. I'm just beginning to understand that. At first I thought as long as one's conscience was clear nothing could happen."

"What is it I can do?" she asked again.

"I am taking for granted you would like to see me get off," Ambrose went on. "Admitting that--that the old feeling is dead and all that--still it can't be exactly pleasant for you to feel that you once felt that way toward a murderer and a traitor--"

"Please, please--" murmured Colina.

"You see you have a motive for helping me," Ambrose insisted. "I thought first of Simon Grampierre. He's under arrest. Then I asked to be allowed to see Germain, his son. The inspector wouldn't have it. I gave up hope after that. But the sight of you makes me want to defend myself still. I thought maybe you would have a note carried to Germain for me."

"Certainly," she said.

"You shall read it," he said eagerly, "so you can satisfy yourself there's nothing treasonable."

She made a deprecating gesture.

"I'll write it at once," he said. He carried the tray to the bed.

Colina gave him the chair.

"They let me have writing materials," Ambrose went on with a rueful smile. "I think they hope I may write out a confession some night."

To Germain Grampierre he wrote a plain, brief account of Nesis, and made clear what a desperate need he had of finding her.

"Will you read it?" he asked Colina.

She shook her head. He handed it to her unsealed, and she thrust it in her dress.

"I'm ever so much obliged to you," he said, trying to keep up the reasonable air. "How pretty your hair looks that way!" he added inconsequentially. The words were surprised out of him.

She turned abruptly. It was beginning to be dark in the shack, and he could no longer see into her face.

Her movement was too much for his self-control. "Ah, must you go?" he cried sharply. "Another minute or two! It will be dreadful here after you've gone!"

"What's the use?" she whispered.

"True," he said harshly. "What's the use?" He turned his back on her.

"Good night, and thank you."

She lingered, hand upon the doorlatch. "Isn't there--isn't there something else I can do?" she asked.

"No, thank you."

Still she stayed. "You haven't touched your supper," she said in a small voice. "Mayn't I--send you something from the house?"

"No!" he cried swiftly. "Not your pity--nor your charity, neither!"

Colina fumbled weakly with the latch--and her hand dropped from it.

"Why don't you go?" he cried sharply. "I can't stand it. I know you hate me. I tell myself that every minute. Be honest and show you hate me, not act sorry!"

"I do not hate you," she whispered.

He faced her with a kind of terror in his eyes. "For G.o.d's sake, go!"

he cried. "You're building up a hope in me--it will kill me if it comes to nothing! I can't stand any more. Go!"

His amazed eyes beheld her come falteringly toward him, reaching out her hands.

"Ambrose--I--I can't!" she whispered.

He caught her in his arms.

Colina broke into a little tempest of weeping, and clung to him like a child. He held her close, stroking her hair and murmuring clumsy, broken phrases of comfort.

"Don't! My dear love, don't grieve so! It's all right now. I can't bear to have you hurt."

"I love you!" she sobbed. "I have never stopped loving you! It was something outside of me that persuaded me to hate you. I've been living in a h.e.l.l since that night! And to find you like this! Nothing to eat but bread and salt pork! Every word you said was like a knife in my breast. And not a single word of reproach!"

"There!" he said, trying to laugh. "You didn't put me here."

She finally lifted a tear-stained face. Clinging to his shoulders and searching his eyes, she said: "Swear to me that you are innocent, and I'll never have another doubt."

He shook his head. "No more swearing!" he said. "If you let yourself be persuaded by the sound of the words, as soon as you left me and heard the others you'd doubt me again. It's got to come from the inside. Words don't signify."

Colina hung her head. "You're right," she said in a humbled voice. "I guess I just wanted an excuse to save my pride. I do believe in you--with my whole heart. I never really doubted you--I was ashamed, afraid, I don't know what. I was a coward. But I suffered for it--every night. Do you despise me?"

He laughed from a light breast.

"Despise you? That's funny! It was natural. A d.a.m.nable combination of circ.u.mstances. I never blamed you."

They were silent for a few moments. She looked up to find him smiling oddly.

"What is it?" she asked.