r and remorse and shame: he standing with the
stay in his hand, backed against the bulwarks, and regarding me with an
expression singularly mingled. At last he spoke.

"Mackellar," said he, "I make no reproaches, but I offer you a bargain.
On your side, I do not suppose you desire to have this exploit made
public; on mine, I own to you freely I do not care to draw my breath in
a perpetual terror of assassination by the man I sit at meat with.
Promise me--but no," says he, breaking off, "you are not yet in the
quiet possession of your mind; you might think I had extorted the
promise from your weakness; and I would leave no door open for casuistry
to come in--that dishonesty of the conscientious. Take time to
meditate."

With that he made off up the sliding deck like a squirrel, and plunged
into the cabin. About half an hour later he returned--I still lying as
he had left me.

"Now," says he, "will you give me your troth as a Christian, and a
faithful servant of my brother's, that I shall have no more to fear from
your attempts?"

"I give it you," said I.

"I shall require your hand upon it," says he.

"You have the right to make conditions," I replied, and we shook hands.

He sat down at once in the same place and the old perilous attitude.

"Hold on!" cried I, covering my eyes. "I cannot bear to see you in that
posture. The least irregularity of the sea might plunge you overboard."

"You are highly inconsistent," he replied, smiling, but doing as I
asked. "For all that, Mackellar, I would have you to know you have risen
forty feet in my esteem. You think I cannot set a price upon fidelity?
But why do you suppose I carry that Secundra Dass about the world with
me? Because he would die or do murder for me to-morrow; and I love him
for it. Well, you may think it odd, but I like you the better for this
afternoon. I thought you were magnetised with the Ten Commandments; but
no--God damn my soul!"--he cries, "the old wife has blood in his body
after all! Which does not change the fact," he continued, smiling again,
"that you have done well to give your promise; for I doubt if you would
ever shine in your new trade."

"I suppose," said I, "I should ask your pardon and God's for my attempt.
At any rate, I have passed my word, which I will keep faithfully. But
when I think of those you persecute----" I paused.

"Life is a singular thing," said he, "and mankind a very singular
people. You suppose yourself to love my