Black Bartlemys Treasure

"And now?" cried I hoarsely, "And now--what? Speak!"

"God's pity--loose me, Martin!"

"And now what--tell me. Is't hate now, scorn and contempt--as 'twas aboard ship?"

"O Martin--let me go!" she sobbed.

"Answer me, is it hate henceforth?"

"Yes!" she panted, "Yes!" and tore herself from my hold. But, as she turned to fly me, I caught her back to me and, madman that I was, bent her backward across my knee that I might look down into her eyes; and, meeting my look, she folded her hands upon her bosom and closing her eyes, spoke broken and humbled: "Take--take your will of me--Black Bartlemy--I am not--brave enough to stab you as--she did--"

Now at this I shivered and must needs cast my gaze towards that great pimento tree that towered afar off. So, then, my hateful dream had come true, and now I knew myself for black a rogue as ever Bartlemy had been. So I loosed her and starting up, stood staring across the desolation of ocean.

"O Damaris!" says I at last, "Here in my belt was my knife to your hand, 'twere better you had stabbed me indeed and I, dying, would have kissed your feet after the manner of yon dead rogue. As it is I must live hating myself for having destroyed the best, the sweetest thing life could offer me and that, your trust. But, O my lady," says I, looking down where she knelt, her face bowed upon her hands, "I do love you reverently and beyond my life."

"Even greatly enough to forego your vengeance?" she questioned softly, and without glancing up.

"God help me!" cried I, "How may I forget the oath I swore on my father's grave?"

"You broke your oath to me!" says she, never stirring, "So do I know that true love hath not touched you."

"Think of me as you will," quoth I, "but--"

"I know!" says she, raising her head at last and looking up at me, "I am sure, Martin. Where hate is, true love can never be, and love howsoever vehement is gentle and reverent and, being of God, a very holy thing! But you have made of it a thing of passion, merciless and cruel--'tis love debased."

"So will I get hence," says I, "for since I have destroyed your faith how shall you ever sleep again and know yourself secure and such rogue as I near you. I'll go, Damaris, I'll away and take your fears along with me."

Then, the while she watched me dumbly, I slung my bow and quiver of arrows about me, set the hatchet in my girdle and, taking my pike, turned to go; but, checking my haste, went into the cave (she following me silent always) and taking the pistol from where it hung, examined flint and priming and charge and laid it on the table.