at I ought, a fact for which I am grateful
now come to think of it, since otherwise I should not be here to-night.
I wish to make the worst of myself, the very worst, for whatever I am
not, at least I am honest. Now having told you that I am, or was half
an hour ago, an idler, a good-for-nothing, prospectless failure, I ask
you--if you care to hear any more?"

She half rose, and, glancing at him for the first time, saw his face
contract itself and turn pale in the moonlight. It may be that the
sight of it affected her, even to the extent of removing some adverse
impression left by the bitter mocking of his self-blame. At any rate,
Benita seemed to change her mind, and sat down again, saying:

"Go on, if you wish."

He bowed slightly, and said:

"I thank you. I have told you what I _was_ half an hour ago; now, hoping
that you will believe me, I will tell you what I _am_. I am a truly
repentant man, one upon whom a new light has risen. I am not very old,
and I think that underneath it all I have some ability. Opportunity
may still come my way; if it does not, for your sake I will make the
opportunity. I do not believe that you can ever find anyone who would
love you better or care for you more tenderly. I desire to live for you
in the future, more completely even than in the past I have lived for
myself. I do not wish to influence you by personal appeals, but in fact
I stand at the parting of the ways. If you will give yourself to me
I feel as though I might still become a husband of whom you could be
proud--if not, I write 'Finis' upon the tombstone of the possibilities
of Robert Seymour. I adore you. You are the one woman with whom I desire
to pass my days; it is you who have always been lacking to my life. I
ask you to be brave, to take the risk of marrying me, although I can see
nothing but poverty ahead of us, for I am an adventurer."

"Don't speak like that," she said quickly. "We are all of us adventurers
in this world, and I more than you. We have just to consider ourselves,
not what we have or have not."

"So be it, Miss Clifford. Then I have nothing more to say; now it is for
you to answer."

Just then the sound of the piano and the fiddle in the saloon ceased.
One of the waltzes was over, and some of the dancers came upon deck to
flirt or to cool themselves. One pair, engaged very obviously in the
former occupation, stationed themselves so near to Robert and Benita
that further conversation between them