n she
spake again, yet now scarce above a whisper. "Your face hath looked
upon me night and morn these two years, and now--O Martin Conisby, were
you but the man I dreamed you!"

"I'm a rogue new-broke from slavery!" says I.

"Aye," she cried suddenly, lifting her head and viewing me with new and
bitter scorn, "and one that speaketh lies of an absent man!"

"Lies!" quoth I, choking on the word. "Lies, madam? Why then, how
cometh my picture here--my coat of arms above the mantel yonder, the
Conisby 'scutcheon on your gates? What do you at Conisby Shene?"

Now in her look I saw a sudden doubt, a growing dread, her breath
caught and she shrank back to the panelled wall and leaned there, and
ever the trouble in her eyes grew. "Well, my lady?" I questioned,
"Have ye no answer?"

"'Twas said ... I have heard ... the Conisbys were no more."

"Even so, how came Sir Richard by this, our house?"

"Nay--nay, I--I know little of my father's business--he was ever a
silent man and I--have passed my days in London or abroad. But
you--ah, tell me--why seek you my father?"

"That is betwixt him and me!"

"Was it--murder? Was it vengeance, my lord?" Here, as I made no
answer, she crosses over to me and lays one slender hand on my
shoulder; whereat I would have risen but her touch stayed me. "Speak!"
says she in a whisper. "Was it his life you sought?" Meeting the look
in her deep, soft eyes, I was silent for a while, finding no word, then
dumbly I nodded. And now I felt her hand trembling on my shoulder ere
it was withdrawn and, looking up, I saw she had clasped her hands and
stood with head bowed like one in prayer: "O Martin Conisby," she
whispered, "now thank God that in His mercy He hath stayed thee from
murder!" So she stood awhile, then, crossing to the carven press, took
thence divers papers and set them before me. "Read!" she commanded.

So I examined these papers and found therein indisputable evidence that
my journey here was vain indeed, that Sir Richard, sailing westward,
had been taken by Spaniards off Hispaniola and carried away prisoner,
none knew whither.

And in a while, having read these papers, I laid them by and rising,
stumbled towards the open casement.

"Well, my lord?" says she in strange, breathless fashion, "And what
now?"

"Why now," says I, wearily, "it seems my vengeance is yet to seek."

"Vengeance?" she cried, "Ah, God pity thee! Doth life hold for thee
nought better?"

"No