er and ever."

Now at last she was inflamed. Every nerve in her was alive. All she
had ever felt for Dyck Calhoun came rushing to the surface, demanding
recognition, reasserting itself. As she used the words, "ever and ever
and ever," it was like a Cordelia bidding farewell to Lear, her father,
for ever, for there was that in her voice which said: "It is final
separation, it is the judgment of Jehovah, and I must submit. It is the
last word."

Lord Mallow saw his opportunity, and did not hesitate. "No, you are
wrong, wholly wrong," he said. "I did not bias what I said in my
report--a report I was bound to make--by any covert prejudice against
Mr. Calhoun. I guarded myself especially"--there he lied, but he was an
incomparable liar--"lest it should be used against him. It would appear,
however, that the new admiral's report with mine were laid together, and
the government came to its conclusion accordingly. So I am bound to do
my duty."

"If you--oh, if you did your duty, you would not obey the command of the
government. Are there not times when to obey is a crime, and is not this
one of them? Lord Mallow, you would be doing as great a crime as Mr.
Dyck Calhoun ever committed, or could commit, if you put this order
into actual fact. You are governor here, and your judgment would be
accepted--remember it is an eight weeks' journey to London at the least,
and what might not happen in that time! Are you not given discretion?"

The governor nodded. "Yes, I am given discretion, but this is an order."

"An order!" she commented. "Then if it should not be fulfilled, break
it and take the consequences. The principle should be--Do what is right,
and have no fear."

"I will think it over," answered the governor. "What you say has immense
weight with me--more even than I have words to say. Yes, I will think it
over--I promise you. You are a genius--you prevail."

Her face softened, a new something came into her manner. "You do truly
mean it?" she asked with lips that almost trembled.

It seemed to her that to do this thing for Dyck Calhoun was the least
that was possible, and it was perhaps the last thing she might ever be
able to do. She realized how terrible it would be for him to be shorn of
the liberty he had always had; how dangerous it might be in many
ways; and how the people of the island might become excited by it--and
troublesome.

"Yes, I mean it," answered Lord Mallow. "I mean it exactly as I say it."

She s