While he was speaking, her head gradually turned from his gaze; in vain he tried to force her eyes to meet his; she held her face downwards, and, shrinking from his arms, dropped on her knees, bowed to earth in bitterness, worse than any death could have been; she had yet to teach this noble heart to despise her. What could death be compared with that? He tried to raise her. "Come," he said with the gentleness of a woman, "I did not mean to scold you; never be cast down with a few rough words from a rough fellow like myself."
A hand was on his arm; he started, so forgetful had he become of all around, seeing only her, for her poor old mother sat in an arm-chair, perfectly unconscious to all around in hearing, and stone blind--Miles turned hastily--the smile had changed to a frown. "Mr. Tremenhere," said Skaife, for 'twas his touch upon him, "do not let me startle or alarm you," he hurriedly added, feeling the start.
"Sir!" exclaimed the other proudly, "I neither know fear nor timidity," and he shook his arm free from the clasp.
"You mistake me," answered Skaife calmly; "though a stranger to you, from report I well know, that, but--" he hesitated a moment in confusion, not well knowing how to continue.
The poor girl came to his aid, rising slowly, whilst her knees trembled beneath her from emotion. She advanced a step; her first impulse of rushing into Miles's arms was passed, and now she durst not touch even his hand, but stood, and with a wave of her hand motioned to Skaife.
"Miles," she said, "that is our curate, good, kind Mr. Skaife. But for him, my poor mother would now have been childless, and probably in the workhouse--_he_ rescued me!" At the thought of her old mother, paralyzed, deaf, and blind, in that spectre-house of misery, the tears dropped from her eyes, which were strained wide open, to try and see through that crowding flood of despair.
"I seldom offer my hand," exclaimed Tremenhere, at the same time extending his towards Skaife, "it has been so often repulsed; but take it now in warm thanks for what you have done for one, almost a sister."
All coldness and pride were banished from that fine noble face; his every feature lit up with the rich, bland smile, which left you almost speechless with admiration, so exalted the expression became. Two worthy of each other in heart and mind clasped hands warmly, and looking in Skaife's face, Miles, whose wrongs had made him a keen observer of countenance, ever dreading an enemy, with his hand gave a feeling of friendship which time well matured.