"Are you there? Coward! Traitor! This explains all. This is the meaning of the haughty contempt--the miserable coldness. And for a woman like that--the mistress of the vilest slave among the men. Humphrey Armstrong--you, the brave officer, to stoop to this! Shame upon you! Shame!" "Woman, are you mad!" "Yes! Mad!" cried the buccaneer, fiercely. "I scorn myself for my weak, pitiful fancy for so despicable a creature as you. So this is the brave captain, holding nightly meetings with a woman like that!" "As I would with anyone who could help me to escape from this vile bondage," said Humphrey. "Vile! Who has made it vile?" "You," said Humphrey, sternly; "and as if I were not degraded low enough by your base passion and declaration, you come here in the night to insult me by such an insinuation as that." There was utter silence for a few moments, and then a quick step forward; and before Humphrey Armstrong could realise the fact, Mary Dell had cast herself down, thrown her arms around him, and laid her cheek against his feet. "Trample on me and crush me, or kill me," she moaned. "I _am_, mad. I did not think it. Humphrey, have pity on me. You do not knew." He trembled as she spoke, and clenched his fists tightly; but making an effort over himself, he said coldly-- "You have imprisoned the woman's lover, and she says he is to die. She came there, as she has come many times before, to plan escape with me and the man I persuaded to be the partner of my flight. For this he is to die." "It is the men's will," groaned the prostrate woman. "She has been praying to me to save her lover. I felt I could not ask you; but I do ask. Spare the poor fellow's life, and set him free." "Do you wish it?" "Yes." "He shall be set free. You see, I can be merciful, while you alone are stern and cold. How long am I to suffer this?" "How long will you keep me here a prisoner?" "How long will you keep yourself a prisoner, you should say. It is for you to be master here; for me to be your slave. How can I humble myself--degrade myself--more?" Humphrey drew his breath in an angry, impatient hiss. "For Heaven's sake, rise!" he cried. "You lower yourself. You humble me. Come: let us talk sensibly. I do not want to be hard upon you. I will not say bitter things. Give me your hand." He took the hand nearest to him as he bent down, and raised the prostrate woman. "Be seated," he said, gravely. "Let me talk to you as I would to some one who can listen in an unprejudiced spirit." There was no reply. "In your character of the captain of these buccaneers you asked me, an English officer, to be your friend and companion--to share with you this command. Is that all?" Still no reply. "Let us tear away the veil," he continued; "for surely I am no egotist when I say to you that from the beginning it was more than this."