“I believe you!” she said, low, as if she spoke to herself.  “Yes, I understand now.”

“Why don’t you say I’m lying to you?”

“Because you are not lying.  Because you tell me the truth, and I know it.  I was mistaken.”

“How do you know?  Why forgive me?  I don’t want you to forgive me.  You don’t understand the madness—­”

“What hope could there be in a particular madness such as that?” He could see her eyes turned on him steadily.  He turned away, sighing.

“I am degraded for ever.”

“Tell me,” she flashed out upon him suddenly; “what did you think then of me, there on the boat?  How did you dare—­”

“I don’t think I had any conclusion—­I only wanted you.  I just couldn’t think of your going away, that was all.  I’d never seen a woman like you, I’ll never hope to see another your equal in all my life.  And you sent for me, told me to come, said you needed help.  I didn’t know what you were.  But I didn’t care what you were, either.  I don’t care now.  Your past might be what you liked, you might be what you are not, and it would make no difference to me.  I wanted you.  I’ll never in all my life cease to want you.  Who you are or what you are is nothing to me.”

[Illustration:  “I’ll never in all my life cease to want you.”]

“But what is the right thing to do now?” he resumed, after a time.  “Parole?  Hostage?  I don’t need to tell you I’m the prisoner now.  My future, my character, are absolutely in your hands.  The fact that I have insulted a woman can be proved.  It is with you, what revenge you will take.  As a lawyer, I point out to you that the courts are open.  You easily can obtain redress there against Warville Dunwody.  And your relatives or friends will of course hold me accountable.”

“Then you fear me?”

“No.  What comes, comes.  I am afraid of no one in the world but my own self.  I fear only the dread of facing life—­of looking about me here, in my own home, and not seeing, not hearing you.

“But you haven’t told me what you wish,” he added; raising his eyes at last; “nor what you intend to do.  Tell me, when will your lawyers call on me?”

“Never at all,” she answered at last.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.  “To set me quit so easily?  Oh, no.”

“Never fear.  You shall pay me ransom, and heavily.”

“Ransom?  Parole?  Hostages?  How do you mean?”

“What ransom you pay me must be out of yourself, out of your own character.  I shall exact it a hundredfold, in shame, in regret, of you.  Do you hold any of that ready to pay your debtor?”

He shook his head.  “No, I’ll never regret.  But you don’t know me, do you?  My fortune is adequate.”

“So is mine,” she rejoined.  “I could perhaps buy some of your property, if it were for sale.  But I want more than money of you.”

“Who are you?” demanded he suddenly, reverting to the old puzzle regarding her.