and yet so resisting
creature. Gentleness in passion! What could have been more seductive to
the scared, starved heart of that girl? Perhaps had he been violent, she
might have told him that what she came down to keep was the tryst of
death--not of love. It occurred to me as I looked at her, young, fragile
in aspect, and intensely alive in her quietness, that perhaps she did not
know herself then what sort of tryst she was coming down to keep.

She smiled faintly, almost awkwardly as if she were totally unused to
smiling, at my cheap jocularity. Then she said with that forced
precision, a sort of conscious primness:

"I didn't want him to know."

I approved heartily. Quite right. Much better. Let him ever remain
under his misapprehension which was so much more flattering for him.

I tried to keep it in the tone of comedy; but she was, I believe, too
simple to understand my intention. She went on, looking down.

"Oh! You think so? When I saw you I didn't know why you were here. I
was glad when you spoke to me because this is exactly what I wanted to
ask you for. I wanted to ask you if you ever meet Captain Anthony--by
any chance--anywhere--you are a sailor too, are you not?--that you would
never mention--never--that--that you had seen me over there."

"My dear young lady," I cried, horror-struck at the supposition. "Why
should I? What makes you think I should dream of . . . "

She had raised her head at my vehemence. She did not understand it. The
world had treated her so dishonourably that she had no notion even of
what mere decency of feeling is like. It was not her fault. Indeed, I
don't know why she should have put her trust in anybody's promises.

But I thought it would be better to promise. So I assured her that she
could depend on my absolute silence.

"I am not likely to ever set eyes on Captain Anthony," I added with
conviction--as a further guarantee.

She accepted my assurance in silence, without a sign. Her gravity had in
it something acute, perhaps because of that chin. While we were still
looking at each other she declared:

"There's no deception in it really. I want you to believe that if I am
here, like this, to-day, it is not from fear. It is not!"

"I quite understand," I said. But her firm yet self-conscious gaze
became doubtful. "I do," I insisted. "I understand perfectly that it
was not of death that you were afraid."

She lowered her eyes slowly, and I went o