“My father found he must go to Cuba to make arrangements for the future. Of course, our life there was finished. Ah Tsong stayed with me. You have heard how it used to be in those islands in the old days, but now you think it is so different? I used to think it was different, too. On the first night my father was away, Ah Tsong, who had gone out, was so long returning I became afraid. Then a strange negro came with news that he had been taken ill with cholera, and was lying at a place not far from the house. I forgot my fears and hurried off with this man. Ah!” She laughed wildly. “I did not know I should never return, and I did not know I should never see my father again. To you this must seem all wild and strange, because there is a law in England. There is a law in Cuba, too, but in some of those little islands the only law is the law of the strongest.” She raised her hands to her face and there was silence for a while. “Of course it was a trap,” she presently continued. “I was taken to an island called El Manas which belonged to Senor Menendez, and where he had a house. This he could do, but”--she threw back her head proudly--“my spirit he could not break. Lots and lots of money would be mine, and estates of my own; but one thing about him I must tell: he never showed me violence. For one, two, three weeks I stayed a prisoner in his house. All the servants were faithful to him and I could not find a friend among them. Although quite innocent, I was ruined. Do you know?” She raised her eyes pathetically to Val Beverley. “I thought my heart was broken, for something told me my father was dead. This was true.” “What!” I exclaimed. “You don’t mean--” “I don’t know, I don’t know,” she answered, brokenly. “He died on his way to Havana. They said it was an accident. Well--at last, Señor Menendez offered me marriage. I thought if I agreed it would give me my freedom, and I could run away and find Ah Tsong.” She paused, and a flush coloured her delicate face and faded again, leaving it very pale. “We were married in the house, by a Spanish priest. Oh”--she raised her hands pathetically--“do you know what a woman is like? My spirit was not broken still, but crushed. I had now nothing but kindness and gifts. I might never have known, but Senor Menendez, who thought”--she smiled sadly--“I was beautiful, took me to Cuba, where he had a great house. Please remember, please,” she pleaded, “before you judge of me, that I was so young and had never known love, except the love of my father. I did not even dream, then, his death was not an accident. “I was proud of my jewels and fine dresses. But I began to notice that Juan did not present any of his friends to me. We went about, but to strange places, never to visit people of his own kind, and none came to visit us. Then one night I heard someone on the balcony of my room. I was so frightened I could not cry out. It was good I was like that, for the curtain was pulled open and Ah Tsong came in.”