Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago. "My limbs feel so light, now that my irons are removed," he observed with a smile, "that I am half inclined to dance. How came you by the hurt, eh?" "How did I come by it?—that's a nate question. ‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. The iron slipped from his face, leaving it blank with astonishment.
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