“First, then, it goes without saying that he was in love with Bessie, does it not?”
“I think so.”
“You saw it. I saw it. Your wife saw it. We all saw it. Isn’t it so?”
“Yes,” they all assented.
“Very good. Now, if you will hark back to the capture of his brother, you will see how all of the real count’s castles in the air were shattered by that event.”
“I see.”
“The brother was a married man; he could only retrieve his fortunes in some such manner as he adopted; but with the count, it was different. He was single. He had fallen in love with Bessie. If he could succeed in winning her for his wife, his fortunes would be retrieved on the spot, and after a manner entirely honorable; for Bessie is rich, in her own right, is she not?”
“Yes.”
“I think he really loved her. I think that she was attracted to him. I even think that it might have ended by her marrying him. It is certain that he thought so. Then, in an instant, the cup he was holding to his lips was shattered. His hopes were dashed to the ground. He determined to disappear. He did so. Then he began to think out some way of overcoming the difficulty that had arisen; of bridging the chasm that had suddenly been dug at his feet. And, Kane, he saw but one way—only one. There was the yacht where he could possess himself of it. Bessie was in Bermuda. He could steal the Shadow. He could hold up the Goalong and take Bessie away, bodily. Thus, at least, he would find the opportunity to plead with her—to present his side of the case exactly as it is; and, perhaps, in spite of all, to win her, for he believed she loved him. At the worst, he could not be lower in her opinion than he already was. This afforded him a chance to win, and he took it.”