"Nay, but, Kate, you too have suffered. See!" He lifted her arm, the loose sleeve fell back. "Oh, how thin it is, and how smooth and round and plump it was when I kissed it last," he said, as he raised it tenderly again to his lips. "It is nothing, John. I shall be all right now that you are here. You poor shattered lover, how you must have suffered!" she went on, with a sob in her voice. "Oh, Katharine, this," looking down at his empty sleeve, "was nothing to what I suffered before, when I thought I had killed you!" "When you thought you had killed me!" she said in surprise. They were sitting close together now, and she had his hand in both her own. "How--when, was that?" And then he told her rapidly about the loss of the Radnor, and the idea which her note had given that she was on board of it. "And you led that ship down to destruction, believing I was on her! How could you do it, John?" she said reproachfully. "It was my duty, darling Kate," he said desperately. "And did you love your duty more than me?" "Love it? I hated it! But I had to do it, dearest," he went on pleadingly. "Honor--you told me so yourself, here, in this very spot; I remember your words; do you not recall them?--'If I stood in the pathway of liberty for a single instant I should despise the man who would not sweep me aside without a moment's hesitation.' Don't you know you said that, Katharine?" "Did I say it? Ah, but that was before I loved you so, and you swept me aside,--well, I love you still, and, John, I honor you for it too; but I could not do it. You see, I am only a woman." "Kate, don't say 'only a woman' that way; what else would I have you, pray? But tell me of yourself." Briefly she recited the events that had occurred to her, dwelling much upon Desborough's courage and devotion to her in the first days of her captivity, the death of Johnson, the burning of Norfolk, the death of Bentley. He interrupted her there, and would fain hear every detail of the sad scene over again, thanking her and blessing her for what she had done. "It was nothing," she said simply; "I loved to do it; he was your friend. It seemed to bring me closer to you." Then she told him of the foundering of the ship, of the frightful voyage in the boat, and rang the changes upon Desborough's name, his cheerfulness, his unfailing zeal and energy, until Seymour's heart filled with jealous pain. "Kate," he said at last, "as I came up the road I saw a man leave the boat-house and climb the hill; who was it?" "It was Lord Desborough, John." Seymour was human, and filled with human feeling. He drew away from her. "What was he doing here?" he said coldly. She smiled at him merrily. "Bidding me good-by. He was made prisoner, of course, by the first soldier we came across after we landed, and has been spending the days of his captivity with us. He was exchanged to-day, and leaves to-night."