The sun was going down behind a streaky line of clouds that crossed the western sky in such a peculiar manner that, as they caught the red sunset color, the whole west resembled nothing so much as a great American flag. Even the stars were there, shining in the blue field. I was standing looking at it in admiration, when I turned suddenly and saw that Mary Tanner had come on deck, and was regarding the sight with wide-open eyes. Probably she had not seen me, but I determined to speak to her, and so came closer.
"It is our flag yonder," I said, pointing.
She gave a little frown, as if I had interrupted some pleasant thought.
"I see it," she answered, turning her head half away; and with this she descended to the cabin again.
Such a starlit night as this was I can never recollect seeing. The calm continued, and as it was warm I brought up a blanket to lie on, and determined to pass the night on deck. As I lay there watching the topmast sway to and fro against the besprinkled heavens, I fell into wondering what was going to become of me—what should I do when I returned to America. I could not imagine; and it seemed to me that it was impossible that Mary Tanner, whom I had grown to think of as the one person in the world who might be interested in my life (ah, the beloved picture of her waiting for me!) was here within sound of my voice; here in my keeping, as it were; and yet affairs were sadly different from what I had hoped or supposed they would be.
I was lying with my head almost on the edge of the hatch combing, when I thought I heard the sound of something like a sigh or a long-drawn breath. I raised myself on my elbow, and there she was standing not three feet from me. I could have placed my hand over hers if I had so chosen.
"Mary," I said, softly. She gave a little gasp and turned.
"Pray do not go until you have heard a few words that I wish to say," I went on, leaning forward. "If my speaking to you is disagreeable, I shall not repeat the offence a second time. Listen! I had not thought to carry you away, but I had hoped some day to find you. In prison I thought of this, and as a free man the hope has been before my eyes. Now there is nothing left. I have naught to offer you, but some day there may come a time when I can do so." I was urged to speak thus by I know not what. "You think that I am but a common sailor. I am—"
"Oh, pray do not explain further, Monsieur le Marquis," she interrupted. "I suppose that you were going on to speak of your estates and titles."
I started.