"This I believed till I met you, Meriel," he said.
"But if that is all——" Her voice died away. Looking at him, she saw his face had hardened.
"It is not all." He told her of his early training, of the practical exposition of Hora's philosophy.
Meriel no longer looked at her companion's face. She began to feel horror growing upon her. She gazed now at the white sail. It was perceptibly nearer.
He carried the story of his life on to the point where he left the University, told her how, merely in obedience to his father's advice, he had not, during those days, practised the principles in which he had believed. Hope began to grow again in her heart. She murmured, "Go on," eagerly.
He told her of his earnest desire to win the approbation of his father, depicted for her the glamour which the adventurous aspect of his profession presented. Abruptly he told her of his first enterprise.
Meriel's heart almost ceased to beat. The white sails of the oncoming boat fascinated her. They were very near now.
"That is not all, yet," he said. "There is one other thing you must know." Paltering not at all, excusing himself in no way, he told her the history of the stolen despatches.
He had not looked at her at all during the narration, but now he ventured one glance. Her face was unnaturally pale.
"You know now why I could not ask you to marry me," he said. "I cannot ask you to marry a thief. Yet, I want you to believe that, thief though I am, I could not steal your love. You must believe that of me. It is true." She heard him, but she made no answer. The boat she had been watching had crept up until it was level. It passed. She shivered in spite of the heat.