"I rejoice to—to see you well again, Martin!"
"Have you no word of—love for me, after all these years, Damaris?" At this she shrank away and, leaning 'gainst the bulwark, shook her head, and again I saw that hopeless gesture of her quivering hands.
"Is your love for me dead, then?" I questioned, coming a pace nearer.
"Ah, never that, Martin!" she whispered. "Only I have—buried it deep—within my heart—where it shall lie for ever hid for thy sake and her sake and—and that—which is to be—this poor Joanna hath told me—"
Now hereupon I laughed and caught her hands and kissed them and they, the pretty things, trembling 'neath my kisses.
"God love thee for sweet and noble woman, my Damaris," said I, sinking to my knees before her, "and now, thus kneeling in the sight of God and thee, hear me swear that hateful thing of which you speak never was and never shall be!" Here I clasped my arms about her, felt her yield and sway to my embrace, saw a dawning glory in her eyes.
"Martin," said she, quick-breathing, "if this be so indeed—"
"Indeed and indeed, Joanna spake a shameful lie—a woman prone to every evil, being a murderess and—"
"A murderess, Martin?"
"Aye, by her own confession, and I do know her for a pirate beside, more desperate and resolute than any, known to every rogue along the Main as Captain Jo."