"
"Then, indeed, this must be very trifling also," said Barnabas,
smiling.
"Does it pain you, sir?"
"Thank you--no."
"Yet it bleeds! You say it was not your horse, sir?" she inquired,
wonderfully innocent of eye.
"No, it was not my horse."
"Why, then--pray, how did it happen?"
"Happen, madam?--why, I fancy I must have--scratched myself,"
returned Barnabas, beginning to wring out his neckerchief.
"Scratched yourself. Ah! of course!" said she, and was silent while
Barnabas continued to wring the water from his neckerchief.
"Pray," she inquired suddenly, "do you often scratch yourself--until
you bleed?--'t is surely a most distressing habit." Now glancing up
suddenly, Barnabas saw her eyes were wonderfully bright for all her
solemn mouth, and suspicion grew upon him.--"Did she know? Had she
seen?" he wondered.
"Nevertheless, sir--my thanks are due to you--"
"For what?" he inquired quickly.
"Why--for--for--"
"For bringing you here?" he suggested, beginning to wring out his
neckerchief again.
"Yes; believe me I am more than grateful for--for--"
"For what, madam?" he inquired again, looking at her now.
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