“And, oh! it is not only that I wanted to see you,” said Rosemary, raising her tearful face from his shoulder, “but I wanted to beg you for my sake—for my sake, Roland, to be just to yourself! To have mercy on yourself! You know, as we know, that you are not a pirate or a slave-stealer! You know, as we know, that you were taken prisoner by the pirates when the _Kitty_ was captured! Capt. Grandiere can testify to that! But he cannot swear that you never joined the pirate crew after you became their prisoner! He cannot swear that you never became the pirate captain’s mate, as they charge you with being. Only you can tell what you did after recovering from your wounds on board the pirate ship. We know that you remained true to yourself and to your friends and to every principle of manhood and honesty, and we could swear that you did, from our lifelong knowledge of you! But, oh, Roland! But, oh, Roland! Such testimony would not be worth anything in a court of law, where moral conviction is not legal evidence! Oh, dear, dear Roland! Take pity on yourself and on us, and testify to the facts that will vindicate you!” These were her words, but no pen can give the pleading, prayerful, pathetic tones and looks and gestures with which they were uttered. The whole strong frame of the young man shook with the emotion that convulsed his soul. “Rosemary!” he said, at length, in a broken voice, “I am about to speak the words that must separate us forever.” He paused, and she took up his cue. “That you cannot do, Roland! Neither man nor angel can utter words which would separate us forever. In this world we may be parted, Roland, if such be your will. But not forever! Not forever!” she said, in her tender, vibrating tones. “Rosemary, hear me! I cannot give the testimony that would vindicate myself, because the same testimony would convict Capt. Silver.” “He will be convicted fast enough without your testimony,” put in the old skipper. “Then it would help to convict him, so I must not give it.” “But, oh! Roland, why should you care for that wicked man—that wickedest man in the whole world?” pleaded Rosemary. “Because, poor child—and now come the words that must part us—because I am his son!” Rosemary stared in blank amazement, while she grew pale as ashes. “You are no more his son than you are my son! And not half so much as you are Abel Force’s son! Deuce take you, lad, are you such a baby as to be beguiled by that man’s lies? He found out your early history, and has made use of the facts, as well as of the want of facts, to deceive you and claim you as his son, to get you in his power, to make you his comrade, if he could, and to tie your tongue in any case. Ah! you must be a blind bat, indeed, not to see through him!” “Ah! Capt. Grandiere, old friend, you do not know! You do not know! Capt. Silver has proved the truth of his story to me,” replied Roland, in a tone of despair. “How has he proved this?” demanded the old skipper.