“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!”