But his words appeared to convert all her crushed and pathetic misery into anger.  “It is not my country!” she replied almost fiercely.  “To me it means only—­”

Von Ritz raised his hand supplicatingly.  “It is my country,” he said sadly, “and—­your duty.  Its fate is in your hands.”

The girl rose, swayed slightly, and putting out one hand for support, stood with her black-gowned figure sketched slenderly against the white of the cabin wall, her eyes irresolute and distressed.

“I must have time to think,” she begged.  “Will you leave me?” Von Ritz bowed and retired.

She dropped exhaustedly into the chair again and for a long while sat silent.  Finally she turned toward the man who, kneeling by her side, waited for her decision through what seemed decades of suspense, and her hands went out gropingly again toward him.

“Dear,” she said in a voice hardly more than a whisper, “whatever I do—­whatever I decide—­always and always I love you!” Impulsively her fingers clutched at his, which rested clenched on her arm-chair.

“You must go!” she said, after a long while.  “With you here there is nothing else in the world.  I can see only you.”  With a catch in her voice she rushed on.  “You must not only go, but I must not know where you go.  I must not be able to call you back.  You must give me your word of honor.”

He attempted to speak, but she tightened her hold on his hands and her hurried utterance checked his words.

“No!” she said.  “Listen!  This time I decide forever.  I must decide alone.  You must not only be out of my sight, but beyond recall.  Three months from to-day I shall write to you, but until then I must not know your address.  Three months from to-day you may be at ‘Idle Times,’ where I first told you I loved you ... where we told each other ... if you still wish to be.  Then, if I decide that I am free, you will find my letter there.  If I’m not free, I had better not even write.  I couldn’t write without calling you back.  If I have to decide that way—­” She broke off with a shudder.  “Oh, you must go—­Dear!—­you must go quickly—!  It is the only way you can help me.”

A half-hour later, Benton turned to the approaching Von Ritz.

“Colonel,” he said steadily, “I sail for San Francisco by way of Suez from the first port we reach.  You will favor me by accepting the Isis as long as Her Majesty can use it.”

Von Ritz met his eyes in silence and held out his hand.

CHAPTER XXVIII

JUSSERET MAKES A REPORT