Black Bartlemys Treasure

"Are you not happy, Martin?" says she, "Happy and proud to have accomplished so much with so little?"

"No!" says I, and so bitterly-fierce that she blenched from me. "For look now," says I, clenching my fist, "here have we wrought and slaved together day in and day out--and to what end?"

"That we may live--to our comfort--" says she a little breathlessly.

"And to what end?" I demanded. "To what purpose have you cozened me to labour thus?"

"I? I don't understand you, Martin!" says she unsteadily.

"Here's you cast alone with me on this island. 'He is a man,' says you to yourself, 'and I a lonely woman. So must I keep him busy, his mind ever employed on some labour, no matter what, lest peradventure he make love to me--'"

"Stop!" cries she angrily, leaping up to her feet all in a moment. "For shame, Martin Conisby! You wrong me and yourself--I am your comrade--"

"Nay, you are a woman, very subtle, and quick-witted as you are beautiful. So have you kept me in ploy thus, yearning meanwhile for some ship--anything to bear you safe away from me! Often have I seen you staring seaward and praying for a sail."

"O you lie, Martin, you lie! Ah, have I not trusted you?"

"Aye, as one might a tiger, by humouring me and distracting my attention! All these weeks I have scarce touched you and kissed you never, nor had I thought to--but now by God--"

"Martin--O Martin, what would you--"

"Kiss you!" says I savagely, and caught her wrists.

"Nay, that you shall never do--with that look on your face!" cries she, and twisted so strongly as nigh broke my hold; but despite all her desperate striving, struggle how she might, I dragged her to me, pinning her arms in my cruel embrace; but still she withstood me and with such fury of strength that twice we staggered and came near falling, until all at once she yielded and lay all soft, her breath coming in little, pitiful, panting groans. So I kissed her as I would, her hair, her eyes, her parted lips, her cool, soft throat, until sun and trees and green grass seemed to spin and whirl dizzily about me, until my lips were wet with her salt tears.

"O God--O God!" she whispered, "O Martin that I trusted so, will you kill my faith and trust? Will you shame your comrade? You that I loved--"

"Loved!" says I, catching my breath and staring down at her tear-wet lashes, "Loved me--O Damaris--"

"Aye loved, and honoured you above all men until the beast broke loose."