"And generally thick-skulled and dull-witted!" quoth I.
"Are you so dull-witted, my Martin?"
"Ah, Damaris, my sweet Joan, when I think on all the wasted tears—"
"Not wasted, Martin, no, not one, since each hath but helped to make the man I do so love."
"That you should so love me is the abiding wonder. I am no man o' the world and with no fine-gentlemanly graces, alas! I am a simple fellow and nought to show for his years of life—"
"Wherefore so humble, poor man? You that were so proud and savage in England and must burst open gates and beat my servants and fright me in my chamber—"
"Aye, I was brute indeed!" said I, sitting down and clean forgetting my guns in sudden dejection.
"And so gloomy with me on the island at the first and then something harsh, and then very wild and masterful; do you remember you would kiss me and I would not—and struggled—so desperately—and vainly—and was compelled?"
"Oh, vile!" said I. "You so lonely and helpless, and I would have forced you to my base will."
"And did not, Martin! Because yours was a noble love. So is the memory of our dear island unutterably sweet."