"

"God's pity--loose me, Martin!"

"And now what--tell me. Is't hate now, scorn and contempt--as 'twas
aboard ship?"

"O Martin--let me go!" she sobbed.

"Answer me, is it hate henceforth?"

"Yes!" she panted, "Yes!" and tore herself from my hold. But, as she
turned to fly me, I caught her back to me and, madman that I was, bent
her backward across my knee that I might look down into her eyes; and,
meeting my look, she folded her hands upon her bosom and closing her
eyes, spoke broken and humbled:

"Take--take your will of me--Black Bartlemy--I am not--brave enough to
stab you as--she did--"

Now at this I shivered and must needs cast my gaze towards that great
pimento tree that towered afar off. So, then, my hateful dream had
come true, and now I knew myself for black a rogue as ever Bartlemy had
been. So I loosed her and starting up, stood staring across the
desolation of ocean.

"O Damaris!" says I at last, "Here in my belt was my knife to your
hand, 'twere better you had stabbed me indeed and I, dying, would have
kissed your feet after the manner of yon dead rogue. As it is I must
live hating myself for having destroyed the best, the sweetest thing
life could offer me and that, your trust. But, O my lady," says I,
looking down where she knelt, her face bowed upon her hands, "I do love
you reverently and beyond my life."

"Even greatly enough to forego your vengeance?" she questioned softly,
and without glancing up.

"God help me!" cried I, "How may I forget the oath I swore on my
father's grave?"

"You broke your oath to me!" says she, never stirring, "So do I know
that true love hath not touched you."

"Think of me as you will," quoth I, "but--"

"I know!" says she, raising her head at last and looking up at me, "I
am sure, Martin. Where hate is, true love can never be, and love
howsoever vehement is gentle and reverent and, being of God, a very
holy thing! But you have made of it a thing of passion, merciless and
cruel--'tis love debased."

"So will I get hence," says I, "for since I have destroyed your faith
how shall you ever sleep again and know yourself secure and such rogue
as I near you. I'll go, Damaris, I'll away and take your fears along
with me."

Then, the while she watched me dumbly, I slung my bow and quiver of
arrows about me, set the hatchet in my girdle and, taking my pike,
turned to go; but, checking my haste, went into the cave (she following
me silent always) and ta