Then she began to cry and laugh at the same time in that strange way
in which a woman relieves a heart too full of joy. "Yes, Betty. It
is all that is left of me," he said, running his hand caressingly
over the dark head that lay on his breast.

"Betty, you must not excite him," said Colonel Zane.

"So you have not forgotten me?" whispered Isaac.

"No, indeed, Isaac. I have never forgotten," answered Betty, softly.
"Only last night I spoke of you and wondered if you were living. And
now you are here. Oh, I am so happy!" The quivering lips and the
dark eyes bright with tears spoke eloquently of her joy.

"Major will you tell Captain Boggs to come over after supper? Isaac
will be able to talk a little by then, and he has some news of the
Indians," said Colonel Zane.

"And ask the young man who saved my life to come that I may thank
him," said Isaac.

"Saved your life?" exclaimed Betty, turning to her brother, in
surprise, while a dark red flush spread over her face. A humiliating
thought had flashed into her mind.

"Saved his life, of course," said Colonel Zane, answering for Isaac.
"Young Clarke pulled him out of the river. Didn't he tell you?"

"No," said Betty, rather faintly.

"Well, he is a modest young fellow. He saved Isaac's life, there is
no doubt of that. You will hear all about it after supper. Don't
make Isaac talk any more at present."

Betty hid her face on Isaac's shoulder and remained quiet a few
moments; then, rising, she kissed his cheek and went quietly to her
room. Once there she threw herself on the bed and tried to think.
The events of the day, coming after a long string of monotonous,
wearying days, had been confusing; they had succeeded one another in
such rapid order as to leave no time for reflection. The meeting by
the river with the rude but interesting stranger; the shock to her
dignity; Lydia's kindly advice; the stranger again, this time
emerging from the dark depths of disgrace into the luminous light as
the hero of her brother's rescue--all these thoughts jumbled in her
mind making it difficult for her to think clearly. But after a time
one thing forced itself upon her. She could not help being conscious
that she had wronged some one to whom she would be forever indebted.
Nothing could alter that. She was under an eternal obligation to the
man who had saved the life she loved best on earth. She had unjustly
scorned and insulted the man to whom she owed the life of her
brot