“I don't suspect all that would suffice. It's not a question of your integrity or your honor. It's the simple matter whether when professing to care for one woman you made love to another?” “If I can disprove that. It 's a long story--” “Then, for Heaven's sake, don't tell it to me.” “Let me, at least, show that it is not fair to shun me.” There was such a tone of sorrow in his voice as he spoke that Tom turned at once towards him, and said: “If you can make all this affair straight--I mean, if it be clear that there was no more in it than such a passing levity that better men than either of us have now and then fallen into--I don't see why you may not come back with me.” “Oh, Tom, if you really will let me!” “Remember, however, you come at your own peril. I tell you frankly, if your explanation should fail to satisfy the one who has to hear it, it fails with me too,--do you understand me?” “I think I do,” said Trafford, with dignity. “It's as well that we should make no mistake; and now you are free to accept my invitation or to refuse it. What do you say?” “I say, yes. I go back with you.” “I'll go and see, then, if Cave will join us,” said Tom, turning hastily away, and very eager to conceal the agitation he was suffering, and of which he was heartily ashamed. Cave accepted the project with delight,--he wanted to see the island,--but, more still, he wanted to see that Lucy Lendrick of whom Sir Brook had spoken so rapturously. “I suppose,” whispered he in Tom's ear, “you know all about Trafford. You 've heard that he has been cut out of the estate, and been left with nothing but his pay?” Tom nodded assent. “He's not a fellow to sail under false colors, but he might still have some delicacy in telling about it--” “He has told me all,” said Tom, dryly. “There was a scrape, too,--not very serious, I hope,--in Ireland.” “He has told me of that also,” said Tom. “When shall you be ready? Will four o'clock suit you?” “Perfectly.” And they parted. CHAPTER V. ON THE ISLAND When, shortly after daybreak, the felucca rounded the point of the island, and stood in for the little bay of Maddalena, Lucy was roused from sleep by her maid with the tidings, “Give me the glass, quickly,” cried she, as she rushed to the window, and after one rapid glance, which showed her the little craft gayly decked with the flag of England, she threw herself upon her bed, and sobbed in very happiness. In truth, there was in the long previous day's expectancy--in the conflict of her hope and fear--a tension that could only be relieved by tears.