“He said that!” she cried.  “He did that!  Oh!” She turned away, and through the slender, clustering trunks of the bordering orange-trees she looked out across the glittering waters of the great harbour to the distant hills.  Thus for a little while, my lord standing stiffly, fearfully, waiting for fuller revelation of her mind.  At last it came, slowly, deliberately, in a voice that at moments was half suffocated.  “Last night when my uncle displayed his rancour and his evil rage, it began to be borne in upon me that such vindictiveness can belong only to those who have wronged.  It is the frenzy into which men whip themselves to justify an evil passion.  I must have known then, if I had not already learnt it, that I had been too credulous of all the unspeakable things attributed to Peter Blood.  Yesterday I had his own explanation of that tale of Levasseur that you heard in St. Nicholas.  And now this... this but gives me confirmation of his truth and worth.  To a scoundrel such as I was too readily brought to believe him, the act of which you have just told me would have been impossible.”

“That is my own opinion,” said his lordship gently.

“It must be.  But even if it were not, that would now weigh for nothing.  What weighs — oh, so heavily and bitterly — is the thought that but for the words in which yesterday I repelled him, he might have been saved.  If only I could have spoken to him again before he went!  I waited for him; but my uncle was with him, and I had no suspicion that he was going away again.  And now he is lost — back at his outlawry and piracy, in which ultimately he will be taken and destroyed.  And the fault is mine — mine!”

“What are you saying?  The only agents were your uncle’s hostility and his own obstinacy which would not study compromise.  You must not blame yourself for anything.”

She swung to him with some impatience, her eyes aswim in tears.  “You can say that, and in spite of his message, which in itself tells how much I was to blame!  It was my treatment of him, the epithets I cast at him that drove him.  So much he has told you.  I know it to be true.”

“You have no cause for shame,” said he.  “As for your sorrow — why, if it will afford you solace — you may still count on me to do what man can to rescue him from this position.”

She caught her breath.

“You will do that!” she cried with sudden eager hopefulness.  “You promise?” She held out her hand to him impulsively.  He took it in both his own.

“I promise,” he answered her.  And then, retaining still the hand she had surrendered to him — “Arabella,” he said very gently, “there is still this other matter upon which you have not answered me.”

“This other matter?” Was he mad, she wondered.

Could any other matter signify in such a moment.

“This matter that concerns myself; and all my future, oh, so very closely.  This thing that Blood believed, that prompted him..., that ... that you are not indifferent to me.”  He saw the fair face change colour and grow troubled once more.