The weary and hard-worked little sentiment that we call conscience spoke up.  Was she just to him?  No.  If she had cared even as much as that action showed, had he no right to care also?  He had the right, yes; but he had been wanting in tact.  He should have waited till they were ashore.  Poor fellow! he looked so white, and his hands were so cold.  Was he there still, looking out at the ship’s wake?  Margaret, are you quite sure you never thought of him save as a friendly professor who taught you philosophy?  And there was a little something that would not be silenced, and that would say—­Yes, you are playing tricks with your feelings, you care for him, you almost love him.  And for a moment there was a fierce struggle in the brave heart of that strong woman as she shook out her black hair and turned pale to the lips.  She rose again, and went and got the book she had hidden, and laid it just where it had lain before.  Then she knew, and she bowed her head till her white forehead touched the table before her, and her hands were wet as they pressed her eyelids.

“I am very weak,” she said aloud, and proceeded with her toilet.

“But you will be kind to him, Margaret,” said the little voice in her heart, as she laid her head on the pillow.

“But it is my duty to be cold.  I do not love him,” she argued, as the watch struck eight bells.

Poor Saint Duty! what a mess you make of human kindness!

Claudius was still on deck, and a wretched man he was, as his chilled hands clung to the side.  He knew well enough that she was angry, though she had reproached herself with not having made it clear to him.  He said to himself he ought not to have spoken, and then he laughed bitterly, for he knew that all his strength could not have kept back the words, because they were true, and because the truth must be spoken sooner or later.  He was hopeless now for a time, but he did not deceive himself.

“I am not weak.  I am strong.  And if my love is stronger than I what does that prove?  I am glad it is, and I would not have it otherwise.  It is done now and can never be undone.  I am sorry I spoke to-night.  I would have waited if I could.  But I could not, and I should despise myself if I could.  Love that is not strong enough to make a man move in spite of himself is not worth calling love.  I wonder if I flattered myself she loved me?  No, I am quite sure I did not.  I never thought anything about it.  It is enough for me that I love her, and live, and have told her so; and I can bear all the misery now, for she knows.  I suppose it will begin at once.  She will not speak to me.  No, not that, but she will not expect me to speak to her.  I will keep out of her way; it is the least I can do.  And I will try and not make her life on board disagreeable.  Ah, my beloved, I will never hurt you again or make you angry.”

He said these things over and over to himself, and perhaps they comforted him a little.  At eight bells the Swedish captain turned out, and Claudius saw him ascend the bridge, but soon he came down again and walked aft.