Again he paused.
“You thought I had sent Jamie out with a light to mislead the vessel. You thought right. I did have her drawn to her destruction, and by your brother.”
He paused again. He saw Judith’s hand twitch: that was the only sign of emotion in her.
“And Lady Knighton’s jewels. I took them off her—it was I who tore her ear.”
Again a stillness. The sky outside shone in at the window, a lurid red. From the kitchen could be heard the voice of a man singing.
“Now you know all,” said Coppinger. “I would not have you take me finally, fully, unreservedly without knowing the truth. Give me your resolve.”
She slightly lifted her hands; she looked steadily into his face with a stony expression in hers.
“What is it!”
“I cannot help myself—unreservedly yours.”
Then he caught her to him, pressed her to his heart and kissed her wet face—wet as though she had plunged it into the sea.