Black Bartlemys Treasure

For a while she stood looking down on me, and I, meeting that look, glanced otherwhere yet, conscious of her regard, stirred uneasily so that my irons rattled dismally.

"Sir," says she at last, but there I stayed her.

"Madam, once and for all, I am no 'sir!'"

"Martin Conisby," she amended in the same gentle voice, "Master Penfeather telleth you refused the honourable service I offered--I pray you wherefore?"

"Because I've no mind to serve a Brandon."

"Yet you steal aboard my ship, Master Conisby, you eat the food my money hath paid for! Doth this suffice your foolish, stubborn pride?" Here, finding nought to say, I scowled at my fetters and held my peace, whereat she sighed a little, as I had been some fretful, peevish child: "Why are you here in my ship?" she questioned patiently. "Was it for vengeance? Tell me," she demanded, "is it that you came yet seeking your wicked vengeance?"

"Mine is a just vengeance!"

"Vengeance, howsoever just, is God's--leave it unto God!" At this I was silent again, whereupon she continued, her voice more soft and pleading: "Even though my father had ... indeed ... wronged you and yours ... how shall his death profit you--?"

"Ha!" I cried, staring up at her troubled face, "Can it be you know this for very truth at last? Are you satisfied of my wrongs and know my vengeance just? Have ye proof of Sir Richard's black treachery--confess!" Now at this her eyes quailed before my look and she shrank away.

"God forgive him!" she whispered, bowing stately head.

"Speak!" says I, fiercely. "Have ye the truth of it at last?"

"'Tis that bringeth me here to you, Martin Conisby, to confess this wrong on his behalf and on his behalf to offer such reparation as I may. Alas! for the bodily sufferings you did endure we can never atone, but ... in all other ways--"

"Never!" says I, scowling. "What is done--is done, and I am--what I am. But for yourself his sin toucheth you no whit."

"How?" cried she passionately. "Am I not his flesh--his blood? 'Twas but lately I learned the truth from his secret papers ... and ... O 'twas all there ... even the price he paid to have you carried to the plantations! So am I come pleading your forgiveness for him and for me ... to humble myself before you ... see thus ... thus, upon my knees!"

Now beholding all the warm beauty of her as she knelt humbly before me, the surge and tumult of her bosom, the quiver of her red lips, the tearful light of her eyes, I was moved beyond speech, and ever she knelt there bowed and shaken in her mute abasement.