on the man who
was no more to blame than I, thinking only of yourself, you killed him;
but you did not think of your child."

Ah, yes, surely George Masson was right! That was what he had said about
his child, Zoe. What a good thing it was he had not killed the ravager
of his home!

But suddenly his logic came to his aid. In terrible misery as he was, he
was almost pleased that he could reason. "And you would give me over to
the law? You would send me to the gallows--and spoil your child's life?"
he retorted.

She threw the knitting down and flung her hands up. "I have no husband.
I have no child. Take your life. Take it. I will go and find his body,"
she said, and she moved swiftly towards the door. "He has gone down the
river--I will find him!"

"He has gone up the river," he exclaimed. "Up the river, I say!"

She stopped short and looked at him blankly. Then his meaning became
clear to her.

"You did not kill him?" she asked scarce above a whisper.

"I let him go," he replied.

"You did not fight him--why?" There was scorn in her tone.

"And if I had killed him that way?" he asked with terrible logic, as he
thought.

"There was little chance of that," she replied scornfully, and steadied
herself against a chair; for, now that the suspense was over, she felt
as though she had been passed between stones which ground the strength
out of her.

A flush of fierce resentment crossed over his face. "It is not
everything to be big," he rejoined. "The greatest men in the world have
been small like me, but they have brought the giant things to their
feet."

She waved a hand disdainfully. "What are you going to do now?" she
asked.

He drew himself up. He seemed to rearrange the motions of his mind with
a little of the old vanity, which was at once grotesque and piteous.
"I am going to forgive you and to try to put things right," he said. "I
have had my faults. You were not to blame altogether. I have left you
too much alone. I did not understand everything all through. I had never
studied women. If I had I should have done the right thing always. I
must begin to study women." The drawn look was going a little from his
face, the ghastly pain was fading from his eyes; his heart was speaking
for her, while his vain intellect hunted the solution of his problem.

She could scarcely believe her ears. No Spaniard would ever have acted
as this man was doing. She had come from a land of No Forgiveness.
Carvillho Gonza