“What do you want with me?” she asked in a hard voice. “Have you come to see if—if——”
“Olivia,” he answered, “I’ve come to tell you that I’m going to a town, now. There’s danger. I’m going with. I mean. Your husband is coming. It’s a dangerous service. I want you to try to realize that. That your husband’s going on a dangerous service. That you might like to see him.”
“Yes,” she answered. “That I might like to see him. Go on.”
“That is all,” he said. “Except that I may not see you again. That I wouldn’t like.” The words dragged; his mouth was quite dry. He stumbled in his speech and began again.
“Olivia,” he said. “My conduct. I thought I acted for the best. I ask you to forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” she said. “Thank you. But I’ve no wish to. You lied to me from the moment I came into the ship. You lied at Salcombe. At Falmouth. All the voyage. In Virginia. And then you thought you had lied enough for your purpose. You let me learn the truth.”
“Yes,” he answered, “I lied. I lied to save you.”
“Ah,” she said, with disgust. “You lied to save me, till it was too late for me to hear the truth.”
“Olivia,” he continued, “I won’t speak more of myself. Your husband. I think he wants. He wants to see you. There may be danger. He wants to see you. He wants to say good-bye. I am going now,” he added. “Olivia, we’ve been in each other’s lives a long time. Could you. Could you let this.” He stumbled in his speech again. She did not help him. His throat was dry like a kiln; he seemed unable to speak. “I am going now,” he said again. “I’ll send your husband to you.” He bowed, and left the cabin. As he closed the door he thought that he could not remember his last sight of her. He could not remember her face as it had last looked upon him.
In the alleyway he met Stukeley coming from Cammock’s state-room.