“I care not,” he said, unwilling, by any appearance of a want of confidence, to hazard an interruption of the friendly relations existing between himself and the savage, in whom he already felt a considerable interest—­“I care not if Waqua hears my story; he is my brother and may look into my heart.”

A gratified expression crossed the countenance of Waqua, but, without a remark, he rose from his seat, and, with a delicacy little to be expected among the wild children of Nature, withdrew to a distant part of the room.

“It is better thus,” said the Governor, “if thy complaint, as I partly suspect, touch a member of the Government.  The secrets of a family should not be blazoned to the world.  Our little Commonwealth is a family, and it becometh each one tenderly to guard the good repute of all.”

“I crave your Excellency’s pardon,” said the young man, casting down his eyes at the rebuke, “for my imprudence; but your sagacity has already divined what forces me to fly to you for succor.  It is of the unjustifiable conduct of the Assistant Spikeman I would speak.”

“It is as I supposed.  Something of this have I heard, but only as flying gossip, which it were unmanly in any one to heed; and which, as such, it were disgraceful in the ruler of a people to regard.  But, if the charge come, bearing upon itself an authentic stamp, it is a different matter.”

“The words which I shall utter I will avouch with my blood.  A great and grievous wrong hath been committed and is continued, against which both Heaven and earth cry out.”

“It is a heavy charge, and now to the proof.”

Hereupon Arundel entered upon the particulars of the breach of faith on the part of Spikeman, and of the restraint exercised by him over Eveline; to all which Winthrop listened with profound attention, by neither word nor sign interrupting the narrative.  Upon its conclusion, however, he began in the spirit of the profession wherein he had been educated, to ask questions and urge objections,

“Thou hast truly, Master Arundel,” he said, “made out a case of great hardship, if the view taken by thee be correct; and, understand me, I doubt not thine entire sincerity.  But what further testimony than that of the young lady hast thou, her representations being contradicted by Master Spikeman?”

“What!” cried the young man, with some warmth, “is not the word of Eveline sufficient to outweigh the prevarications of a thousand tricksters like this Spikeman?”

“This is no proper language,” said Winthrop, a little sternly, “but Amor semper coecus,” he added, smiling, “This rule I take to be without exception.  Am I to understand that thou hast no further proof?”

“There is the asseveration of Eveline Dunning, met only by the denial of the Assistant Spikeman, who would deny every truth, so only it were necessary for his purpose.”

“Thou dost prejudice thy cause by want of moderation.  It seemeth me, however, that Master Spikeman hath no necessity to join issue with thee on the facts, and that a bare demurrer were all-sufficient to throw thee out of court.  Forgive me for inflicting this pain, but I do it not without a motive, which is to possess thee fully of the manner in which this matter is viewed by others.”