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 said Andrew, jumping up. “Do you not comprehend that if I were what you take me to be, her ring would inflame my finger and press on it the mark of disgrace? That touching the hand of the bride you are forcing upon me, I should continually be thinking of the hand that destroyed my race; and walking by her side, I should see a stream of blood rolling between us? That her words would recall to me those of the murdered ones and the lament of the widow; that they would turn my heart into ice? Even though it were possible, as you in your youthful inexperience believe, that the granddaughter of the assassin of my race would stoop to its last representative—then you may believe he would never, never lower himself to her, if he were to gain heaven by it!”

And Andrew left the room as suddenly as he had appeared.

The harper jumped up as if bitten by a scorpion; the look that he turned upon the porter’s son was almost enough to paralyze him.

What had he heard? Did this man really