ere they are,
and perhaps they prick your conscience. But what harm have you done to
me?"

"I told you," he answered, "on the second night after the slave camp
was burnt, that I believed you to be man and wife. I believe it yet, and
have I not sinned doubly therefore in worshipping a woman who is wedded?
Still, I pray that as you are one before Heaven and the Church, so you
may become one in heart and deed. And when this is so, as I think that
it will be, cherish her, Outram, for there is no such woman in the
world, and for you she will turn the earth to heaven."

"She might turn it to the other place; such things have happened," said
Leonard moodily. Then he stretched out his arm and grasped the priest's
delicate hand. "You are a true gentleman," he added, "and I am a fool.
I saw something of all this and I suspected you. As for the marriage,
there is none, and the lady cares nothing for me; if anything, she
dislikes me, and I do not wonder at it: most women would under the
circumstances. But whatever befalls, I honour you and always shall
honour you. I must go this journey, it is laid on me that I should, and
she insists upon going also, more from perversity than for any other
reason, I fancy. So you are coming too: well, we will do our best to
protect her, both of us, and the future must look to itself."

"Thank you for your words," Francisco answered gently, and turned away,
understanding that Leonard thought himself his companion in misfortune.

When the Father had gone, Leonard stood for a while musing upon the
curiously tangled web in which he found himself involved. Here he was,
committed to a strange and desperate enterprise. Nor was this all, for
about him were other complications, totally different from those
which might be expected in connection with such a mediaeval adventure,
complications which, though they are frequent enough in the civilised
life of men, were scarcely to be looked for in the wilds of Africa, and
amidst savages. Among his companions were his ward, who chanced also to
be the lady whom he loved and desired to make his wife, but who, as
he thought, cared nothing for him; and a priest who was enamoured
platonically of the same lady, and yet wished, with rare self-sacrifice,
to bring about her union with another man. Here were materials enough
for a romance, leaving the journey and the fabled treasure out of it;
only then the scene should be laid elsewhere.

Leonard laughed aloud as he t