I was able to get a little of the brandy between Lucille’s lips, and she revived somewhat, opening her eyes. She caught sight of Sir George, and then she seemed to sleep again. When she awoke a second time and saw me standing near her, fright struggled with surprise in her look, so that I could not see whether she realized where she was.

She murmured that she was cold. I called to Simon and had him get my tinder box from my coat. With the flint and steel I kindled the burnt linen to a glow, and soon was blowing to a flame some dry sticks. Then Sir George, Simon and I set about gathering driftwood, verily like three school boys at a bonfire, until we had a goodly pile on the sand, sending out a genial warmth. It was a welcome heat, for we were chilled by the water, and Lucille was trembling as one with ague. We carried her to the blaze, and I wrapped my dry jacket about her, so that with the comfort of the fire, some color returned to her cheeks.

217“Where am I?” she asked, passing her hand over her brow.

“With me,” said Sir George, quickly.

“God forbid,” spoke Lucille in an instant, and those few words gave me hope.

Sir George motioned to Simon, who ran to the raft, bringing back with him his master’s sword. Seeing that the wind lay in that direction, I hastened to where I had cast my blade. It was gone, as was my gun. I knew then that Simon must have hidden them when he came ashore. Lucille was watching us.

She rose from her reclining position, and, seeing Sir George armed, and me without a sword, she ran between us.

“Hold!” she cried. “Add not murder to your other crimes, my lord.”

“Murder,” he exclaimed; “it would not be murder to slay in fair combat. It is but the execution of justice on a traitor.”

“Traitor?” spoke Lucille, questioningly, while her head was lifted proudly in the air, and her voice rang with scorn. “Who is the traitor, when he stands face to face with you, my lord, chief of all traitors. For you were traitor to a defenseless woman. Captain Amherst is no traitor, but a true and honorable gentleman, and--and--I love him!”

Then, being a woman, Lucille’s spirit gave way, and she 218wept bitterly. I turned my head aside, for sometimes a woman’s tears are sorrowful to look upon. However, she soon regained her composure.

A sudden silence fell upon us all. When Lucille had said “I love him,” I looked at Sir George, and he at me. Now such had been the turn of events of late, that I knew not what to think.

Had Lucille planned to sail with her former lover? Was she true to me, or a fickle jade, blown this way and that, like many women? These things I much desired to hear the truth of. But yet she had said of me, “I love him.”

“Madame,” I said, and at the formal word Lucille glanced, half frightened at me, “strange events have come to pass between us since last we met. You were my promised wife when I sailed against St. Johns. I returned to be cast into prison on a foul charge, but not before one had met me with the words that you were his wife, and that I had no right to your love, nor you to mine.”

“His wife?” began Lucille, and Sir George smiled at the trick he had played.

“Oh, of the falsity of that I soon learned,” I went on, “for I met Nanette in Boston. But no sooner do I learn you are not wedded to Sir George Keith than I hear that you have sailed with him. Perchance you have since thought better of your troth to me, and are, even now, his wife.”

219“His wife? Never!” cried Lucille.

“No,” said Sir George slowly, “not my wife, but----”

I would have leaped at him, unarmed though I was, and though he held his sword so that I must have run upon it, had not Lucille grasped my arm.

“Not--not--oh, my God, not his----” I could not finish for Lucille’s hand was over my mouth.

The next instant I had my answer. For she placed her arms about my neck, and before him, before the man I believed she had cast me aside for, she kissed me full on the lips, and spoke my name.

“Edward!”

“Lucille!” I cried. “Lucille!” And the love in my heart surged up as do the waters at flood tide. “Then God has given you back to me, after all. Speak, love, are you mine, all mine; or has he any claim on you?” and I passed my arm about her, and looked at Sir George, as he stood there, sword in hand.

“Edward,” said Lucille, and she clung to me as a frightened bird might nestle, “most grievous has been my plight, and cruelly has Sir George Keith treated a defenseless maid, yet I will do him this justice. Though ever did he protest his love in burning words, almost to insult, yet, as I stand before you both, he gave me no dishonor. And for this I thank him, that I am restored to you, my love, true as when he lured me away. So that 220while he remains not entirely guiltless, the great shame is not upon him.”

“I thank you, madame,” spoke Sir George, bowing low, his hand on his sword, “most graciously do I thank you,” and his words became bitter, while his face grew cold and stern. “My poor love for you, poor in that ’tis all I have, is but my plea for that which I have done. I pray your forgiveness, though, perchance, I do not merit it. I would do again all that I have done, aye, a thousand times, if I stood but one chance of success, of even winning one loving word from you, madame.

“But you have spurned my love, as is your right, though once it was not so.”

Lucille shrank closer to me at that, and the words pierced me with a jealous anger. He saw his advantage and went on:

“Once you thought it no great task to smile with me. My words did not turn you from me then. That was----”

“Oh, my lord, I pray you to cease,” implored Lucille and Sir George became silent.

“Your pardon, madame,” he continued, after a moment’s pause, “enough of that, then. But though I have lost your love, I cannot, as I am a gentleman and a soldier, let the matter rest there. My enemy shall not thus easily steal you from me. I have two quarrels with him now from divers causes. Of the one he knows well. Of the other--well, 221I am ever willing to draw swords for a fair face,” and he bowed with mock courtesy.

“I would be weak, indeed,” he added, “did I give you up now after what I have gone through, and say to him, ‘welcome. Take my love from me. Take also your life which, of right, belongs to the King and to me, and go in peace!’ Nay, I have blood in my veins, not water.

“Three several times have I stood before you, Sir Francis Dane,” and he turned to address me. I marked that Lucille started at the name he gave me. “Three times you dared me to draw sword. Each time I held my hand, though my blade was ready. But I waited, for even bitter as my hate was, I had laid plans that might remove you from my path without need of open action on my part. I failed, you best know how and why. But think not that you will escape me, for the score is too heavy to forget now.”

Sir George moved toward me, and I thought at first he meant to attack me, f............