Black Bartlemys Treasure

A rolling, wooded country of broad savannahs, of stately groves and mazy boskages, of dim woods and flashing streams; a blended harmony of greens be-splashed, here and there, with blossoming thickets or flowering trees, the whole shut in by towering, tree-girt cliffs and bounded by a limitless ocean, blue as any sapphire.

Viewing the island from this eminence I could see that Adam's map was true in all essentials as to shape and general trend of the country, and sitting beside my lady I fell to viewing the island more narrowly, especially this eminent place; and looking about me I called to mind how Adam (according to his story) had waged desperate fight with Tressady hereabouts--indeed I thought to recognise the very spot itself, viz., a narrow ledge of rock with, far below, a sea that ran deeply blue to break in foam against the base of these precipitous cliffs. Away over hill and dale I saw that greeny cliff with its silver thread of falling water that marked our refuge, and beyond this again, on my right hand, the white spume of the breakers on the reef. And beholding the beauties thus spread out before my eyes, and knowing myself undisputed lord of it all, there grew within me a sense of joy unknown hitherto.

At last, moved by a sudden thought, I turned from the beauties of this our island to study the beauty of her who sat beside me; the proud carriage of her shapely head 'neath its silky masses of hair, the level brows, the calm, deep serenity of her blue eyes, the delicate nose, full red lips and dimpled chin, the soft round column of her throat, deep bosom and slender waist--thus sat I staring upon her loveliness heedless of all else until she stirred uneasily, as if conscious of my regard, and looked at me. Then I saw that her eyes were serene no longer, whiles all at once throat and cheeks and brow were suffused with slow and painful colour, yet even as I gazed on her she met my look unflinching.

"What is it, Martin?" she questioned, a little breathless still.

"Suppose," says I slowly, "suppose we are never taken hence--suppose we are destined to end our days here?"

"Surely this is--an ill thought, Martin?"

"Indeed and is it, my lady? Can the world offer a home more fair?"

"Surely not, Martin."

"Then wherein lieth the ill--Damaris? Is it that you do yearn so mightily for England?"

"There lieth my home, Martin!"

"Is home then so dear to you?" Here, finding no answer, she grew troubled. "Or is it," says I, bending my staff across my knee and beginning to frown, "or is it that there waits some man yonder that you love?"