Black Bartlemys Treasure

"None, madam, 'twas all whipped out o' me aboard the 'Esmeralda' galleass. Ring, madam! But I go not till I learn, once and for all, if Sir Richard be here or no."

Now at this she loosed the bell-rope very suddenly and, covering her face with her hands, stood thus awhile: "God pity me!" says she at last in weeping voice. "I may not forget how you saved me from--" Here a tremor seemed to shake her; then she spake again, yet now scarce above a whisper. "Your face hath looked upon me night and morn these two years, and now--O Martin Conisby, were you but the man I dreamed you!"

"I'm a rogue new-broke from slavery!" says I.

"Aye," she cried suddenly, lifting her head and viewing me with new and bitter scorn, "and one that speaketh lies of an absent man!"

"Lies!" quoth I, choking on the word. "Lies, madam? Why then, how cometh my picture here--my coat of arms above the mantel yonder, the Conisby 'scutcheon on your gates? What do you at Conisby Shene?"

Now in her look I saw a sudden doubt, a growing dread, her breath caught and she shrank back to the panelled wall and leaned there, and ever the trouble in her eyes grew. "Well, my lady?" I questioned, "Have ye no answer?"

"'Twas said ... I have heard ... the Conisbys were no more."

"Even so, how came Sir Richard by this, our house?"

"Nay--nay, I--I know little of my father's business--he was ever a silent man and I--have passed my days in London or abroad. But you--ah, tell me--why seek you my father?"

"That is betwixt him and me!"

"Was it--murder? Was it vengeance, my lord?" Here, as I made no answer, she crosses over to me and lays one slender hand on my shoulder; whereat I would have risen but her touch stayed me. "Speak!" says she in a whisper. "Was it his life you sought?" Meeting the look in her deep, soft eyes, I was silent for a while, finding no word, then dumbly I nodded. And now I felt her hand trembling on my shoulder ere it was withdrawn and, looking up, I saw she had clasped her hands and stood with head bowed like one in prayer: "O Martin Conisby," she whispered, "now thank God that in His mercy He hath stayed thee from murder!" So she stood awhile, then, crossing to the carven press, took thence divers papers and set them before me. "Read!" she commanded.

So I examined these papers and found therein indisputable evidence that my journey here was vain indeed, that Sir Richard, sailing westward, had been taken by Spaniards off Hispaniola and carried away prisoner, none knew whither.