Black Bartlemys Treasure

"Stoop, madam?" I cried hoarsely.

"Aye, stoop," says she. "The wrongs you have endured have plunged you to the very deeps, have stripped you of your manhood. And yet--yours is no murderer's face even when you scowl and clench your fist! 'Twas so you looked when you fought that rough boy on my behalf so many years ago when you were Sir Martin the Knight-errant and I was Princess Damaris. And now, Martin, you that were my playmate and had forgot--you that were so ready to fight on my behalf--in this desolation there is none you may do battle with for my sake saving only--Martin Conisby!"

Now here she turned, her face hid from me 'neath a fold of the great boat-cloak, and spake no more. And I, crouched above her, staring down at her muffled form outstretched thus at my mercy, felt my quivering fist relax, felt my brutish anger cower before her trust and fearlessness. And so, leaning across the tiller, I stared away into the raging dark; and now it seemed that the soul of me had sunk to deeps more black and, groping blindly there, hungered for the light.

So all night long we drove before the tempest through a pitchy gloom full of the hiss of mighty seas that roared past us in the dark like raging giants. And all night long she lay, her head pillowed at my feet, sleeping like a wearied child, and her long, wind-tossed hair within touch of my hand.