"No, Martin—beloved, ah no!" cries she as it were pain to her, and kneeling before me, set her soft arms about my neck. "Martin," says she, "as we kneel thus in this wilderness alone with God, here and now, before your lips touch mine, before your dear strong hands take me to have and hold forever, so great and trusting is my love I ask of you no pledge but this: Swear now in God's sight to renounce and put away all thought of vengeance now and for ever, swear this, Martin!"
Now I, all bemused by words so unexpected, all dazzled as it were by the pleading, passionate beauty of her, closed my eyes that I might think:
"Give me until to-morrow—" I groaned.
"'Twill be too late! Choose now, Martin."
"Let me think—"
"'Tis no time for thought! Choose, Martin! This hour shall never come again, so, Martin—speak now or—"
The words died on her lip, her eyes opened in sudden dreadful amaze, and thus we remained, kneeling rigid in one another's arms, for, away across Deliverance, deep and full and clear a voice was singing:
"There are two at the fore,
At the main are three more,
Dead men that swing all in a row;
Here's fine dainty meat
For the fishes to eat:
Black Bartlemy—Bartlemy ho!"