Lulu uttered a long low wail.  “Oh, David, my love! why did you come here?  Did you hope for pity or help in his heart?  And what can I do Davie, but suffer with you?” But she drew his face down and kissed it with a solemn tenderness that taught the wretched man, in one moment, all the blessedness of a woman’s devotion, and all the misery that the indulgence of his ungovernable temper had caused him.

“We will hae no more heroics, Lulu.  As a magistrate and a citizen it is my duty to arrest a murderer on his ain confession.”

“Your duty!” she answered, in a passion of scorn.  “Had you done your duty to David in the past years, this duty would not have been to do.  Your duty or anything belonging to yourself, has always been your sole care.  Wrong Davie, wrong me, slay love outright, but do your duty, and stand well with the world and yourself!  Uncle, you are a dreadful Christian!”

“How dare you judge me, Lulu?  Go to your own room at once!”

“David, dearest, farewell!  Fly!—­you will get no pity here.  Fly!”

“Sit down, sir, and do not attempt to move!”

“I am hungry, thirsty, weary and wretched, and at your mercy, father.  Do as you will with me.”  And he laid his rifle upon the table.

Lorimer looked at the hopeless figure that almost fell into the chair beside him, and his first feeling was one of mingled scorn and pity.

“How did it happen?  Tell me the truth.  I want neither excuses nor deceptions.”

“I have no desire to make them.  There was a ‘run,’ just as my time was out.  Whaley, in an insolent manner, ordered me to help turn the leaders.  I did not move.  He called me a coward, and taunted me with my Spanish blood—­it was my dear mother’s.”

“That is it,” answered Lorimer, with an anger all the more terrible for its restraint; “it is the Spanish blood wi’ its gasconade and foolish pride.”

“Father!  You have a right to give me up to the hangman; but you have no right to insult me.”

The next moment he fell senseless at his father’s feet.  It was the collapse of consciousness under excessive physical exhaustion and mental anguish; but Lorimer, who had never seen a man in such extremity, believed it to be death.  A tumult of emotions rushed over him, but assistance was evidently the first duty, and he hastened for it.  First he sent the housekeeper Cassie to her young master, then he went to the quarters to arouse Plato.

When he returned, Lulu and Cassie were kneeling beside the unconscious youth.  “You have murdered him!” said Lulu, bitterly; and for a moment he felt something of the remorseful agony which had driven the criminal at his feet into a short oblivion.  But very soon there was a slight reaction, and the father was the first to see it.  “He has only fainted; bring some wine here!” Then he remembered the weakness of the voice which had said, “I am hungry, and thirsty, and weary and wretched.”