"What are the conditions--what is it you wish me to do? If it be in human power, 'tis done. Torment me no more; as you are a man and have a heart, speak!" In his agitation the younger man seized the elder by the arm.
"I desire you to go back to your ship and arrange to put in my possession the person of John Paul Jones," said the admiral, with the greatest deliberation, concealing his anxiety by an appearance of great firmness, as he nonchalantly helped himself to a pinch of snuff. An accurate observer would have noticed that the trembling of his hands belied his simulated calmness.
It was out now! What would the man say or do? Elizabeth sank back appalled. So this was the condition; this was the test. He was to choose between her and black treachery--dishonor! His answer, what would it be? Had her idol feet of clay, after all? Her fate hung in the balance; she could never survive his shame if he fell; if not--ah!
O'Neill released the admiral at once, stared at him a long moment in horrified silence, shrank away from him, and sank down in the chair and buried his face in his hands for a little space; his two auditors waited, hope for different results trembling in either heart. Presently he looked up and rose to his feet.
"Treachery--dishonor--shame! And with her innocence and youth and beauty you bait your trap!" ejaculated O'Neill, brokenly. The admiral still played with his snuffbox, his eyes averted, his hands trembling still. Was it age, or--
"Oh, my God, my God!" continued the sailor, stricken to the very heart, "to raise my hopes to such a pitch--to put the cup of happiness to my very lips--to open the gates of heaven in my very presence--and couple your propositions with this--this infamy! I am a lover, sir, you know it well; but you should not have forgotten that I am, before everything else, a gentleman. How could you do it? It ill becomes your years," he went on impetuously, in mounting indignation. "I am your prisoner--your captive; but I knew not that misfortune gave you a right to insult me thus My Lord, my Lord, the ladder upon which you put my feet leads down, not up; hell, not heaven, is its end!"
"Think!" said the admiral, doggedly, feeling the game was lost, but, like a desperate gamester, playing on. "The Lady Elizabeth is at the end, where'er it be."
"I love her, God only knows how much I love her; from the moment I saw her I have had no thought but for her. I could not look her in the face and be guilty of this thing." The girl in the picture almost cried aloud for joy in this triumph of her lover's honor.
"She shall never know," replied the admiral. "I will pledge my word of honor."
The honor of the tempter, for the dishonor of the tempted! O'Neill laughed bitterly.