"I treated you shamefully, Jack," she whispered brokenly. "I ought to have given you a reason, but I couldn't. Shame held my tongue, and I let you go away without a word; but--but God knows I've been bitterly punished. No one could imagine what I have suffered with that demon--aye, and must continue to suffer." "Can't anything be done, Lolie?" "I must brave it out to the end, I suppose, as others have done before me," she muttered drearily. "Something shall be done!" cried Jack cheeringly. His old confidence was coming back to him. Now that the mystery of Loyola's strange marriage was cleared up, and he was no longer in doubt that she still loved him, a mighty flood of gladness was surging up within him. For the present this newly gained knowledge was sufficient. Who knew what the future might not bring forth? At any rate her love was his; that, Hawksley could have no part in. As for Hawksley, he despised Hawksley. Let the ruffian take care. Snakes were only fit for stamping on, and Jack began to see himself stamping on Hawksley with a keen satisfaction. So the rover mused, whilst Loyola stood by his side, watching him. "And now," he proposed, "I'll give you a sketch of the events which landed me on this coral spit, after which we'll plan out the future." And, standing there in the glaring sunlight, Jack plunged into a recital of his late adventures, whilst Loyola listened without comment until he came to the part the moon had played. At the news of his blindness an involuntary cry broke from her, the shock of the quiet announcement struck her like a blow. Her Jack, dear old Jack of the happy _Moonbeam_ days, blind? No, it could not be! Fate was cruel, as she well knew, but not as cruel as that. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his shoulders and peered into the blind eyes, as if she would reassure herself by their appearance. She saw no difference in them, no difference from the eyes she used to know. It could not be! Jack was mistaken, and yet, how could a man be mistaken as to whether he could see or not? Again she peered desperately, her face within an inch of his. Jack could feel her soft breath on his cheek; her lips, half opened in her excitement, seemed to be touching his moustache; the slightest movement forward on his part and they would be against his. Never had the man been so tempted. At the same moment a wolfish head poked stealthily through the brushwood, and a pair of cruel, cunning eyes glared forth angrily upon the scene. CHAPTER VIII "THE FIGHT ON THE SANDS" "Ho! ho! ho!" laughed a high, sneering voice "A pretty picture, upon my word--and the good, saintly Loyola, too! Where does hubby come in, I wonder?" The pair sprang apart as if struck by a thunderbolt, and as Jack faced round the ruffian recognised him. "Oh, it's you, is it? Big Harry's dandy mate spooning with my little wife! Well, I am surprised! What a shocking world it is, to be sure!" "You devil!" hissed the rolling-stone furiously.