"I lost it after an action with the British ship Yarmouth,—it was only a flesh wound at first,—we were long in reaching Charleston; the arm had to be amputated. It was a fearful action."
"I know it," she interrupted; "I was there."
"You, Katharine! Ah, that woman on the ship! I was not deceived then, and yet I could not believe it."
"Yes, 'twas I. I gloried in your bravery, until I saw you lying, as I thought, dead on the deck. Oh, John, the horror of that moment! Then I called you, and you did not answer. Then I wanted to die, too, but now I am alive again, and so happy—but for this;" she lifted the empty sleeve to her lips. "How you must have suffered, my poor darling," she went on, her eyes filling with tears, her heart yearning over him. "And how ill you look, and I keep you standing here,—how thoughtless! Come to the bench here and sit down. Lean on me."
"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.