He had already
twice wounded me on the scalp; and it is to the consequent loss of
blood that I am tempted to attribute the sudden clearness of my
mind.
I caught him by the wrist.
"Northmour," I remember saying, "you can kill me afterwards. Let
us first attend to Clara."
He was at that moment uppermost. Scarcely had the words passed my
lips, when he had leaped to his feet and ran towards the tent; and
the next moment, he was straining Clara to his heart and covering
her unconscious hands and face with his caresses.
"Shame!" I cried. "Shame to you, Northmour!"
And, giddy though I still was, I struck him repeatedly upon the
head and shoulders.
He relinquished his grasp, and faced me in the broken moonlight.
"I had you under, and I let you go," said he; "and now you strike
me! Coward!"
"You are the coward," I retorted. "Did she wish your kisses while
she was still sensible of what she wanted? Not she! And now she
may be dying; and you waste this precious time, and abuse her
helplessness. Stand aside, and let me help her."
He confronted me for a moment, white and menacing; then suddenly he
stepped aside.
"Help her then," said he.
I threw myself on my knees beside her, and loosened, as well as I
was able, her dress and corset; but while I was thus engaged, a
grasp descended on my shoulder.
"Keep your hands of her," said Northmour fiercely.
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