or a while, with his eyes upon Mrs. Travers. The brig's
swing-lamp lighted the cabin with an extraordinary brilliance. Mrs.
Travers had thrown back her hood. The radiant brightness of the little
place enfolded her so close, clung to her with such force that it might
have been part of her very essence. There were no shadows on her face;
it was fiercely lighted, hermetically closed, of impenetrable fairness.

Lingard looked in unconscious ecstasy at this vision, so amazing that it
seemed to have strayed into his existence from beyond the limits of
the conceivable. It was impossible to guess her thoughts, to know her
feelings, to understand her grief or her joy. But she knew all that
was at the bottom of his heart. He had told her himself, impelled by
a sudden thought, going to her in darkness, in desperation, in absurd
hope, in incredible trust. He had told her what he had told no one
on earth, except perhaps, at times, himself, but without words--less
clearly. He had told her and she had listened in silence. She had
listened leaning over the rail till at last her breath was on his
forehead. He remembered this and had a moment of soaring pride and of
unutterable dismay. He spoke, with an effort.

"You've heard what I said just now? Here I am."

"Do you expect me to say something?" she asked. "Is it necessary? Is it
possible?"

"No," he answered. "It is said already. I know what you expect from me.
Everything."

"Everything," she repeated, paused, and added much lower, "It is the
very least." He seemed to lose himself in thought.

"It is extraordinary," he reflected half aloud, "how I dislike that
man." She leaned forward a little.

"Remember those two men are innocent," she began.

"So am I--innocent. So is everybody in the world. Have you ever met a
man or a woman that was not? They've got to take their chances all the
same."

"I expect you to be generous," she said.

"To you?"

"Well--to me. Yes--if you like to me alone."

"To you alone! And you know everything!" His voice dropped. "You want
your happiness."

She made an impatient movement and he saw her clench the hand that was
lying on the table.

"I want my husband back," she said, sharply.

"Yes. Yes. It's what I was saying. Same thing," he muttered with strange
placidity. She looked at him searchingly. He had a large simplicity that
filled one's vision. She found herself slowly invaded by this masterful
figure. He was not mediocre. Whatever he m