“May I speak with you?”

I turned instantly, so thoroughly surprised, my voice faltered as I gazed into the upturned face of the questioner.  She stood directly beside me, with only the rope barrier stretched between us, her head uncovered, the contour of her face softened by the twilight.  Instantly my cap was off, and I was bowing courteously.

“Most certainly,” with a quick side glance toward the guard, “but I am a prisoner.”

“Of course I know that,” in smiling confidence.  “Only you see I am rather a privileged character on board.  No one expects me to obey rules.  Still that does not apply to you, does it?” hesitating slightly.  “Perhaps you may be punished if you talk with me—­is that what you meant?”

“I am more than willing to assume the risk.  Punishment is no new experience to me; besides just now I am on sick leave, and privileged.  That accounts for my being still on deck.”

“And I chanced to find you here alone.  You have been ill?”

“Not seriously, but confined to the berth for a couple of days.  And now the doctor prescribes fresh air.  This meeting with you, I imagine, may prove even of greater benefit than that.”

“With me?  Oh, you mean as a relief from loneliness.”

“Partly—­yes.  The voyage has certainly proven lonely enough.  I have made few friends forward, and am even bold enough to say that I have longed for a word with you ever since I first saw you aboard.”

“Why especially with me?”

“Rather a hard question to answer at the very beginning,” I smiled back at her.  “Yet not so difficult as the one I shall ask you.  Except for a fat matron, and a colored maid, you chance to be the only woman on board.  Can you consider it unnatural that I should feel an interest?  On the other hand I am only one of fifty prisoners, scarcely cleaner or more reputable looking than any of my mates.  Yet surely you have not sought speech with these others?”

“No.”

“Then why especially with me?” Even in the growing dusk I could mark a red flush mount into the clear cheeks at this insistent question, and for an instant her eyes wavered.  But she possessed the courage of pride, and her hesitancy was short.

“You imagine I cannot answer; indeed that I have no worthy reason,” she exclaimed.  “Oh, but I have; I know who you are; my uncle pointed you out to me.”

“Your uncle—­the planter in the gray coat?”

“Yes; I am traveling home with him to Maryland.  I am Dorothy Fairfax.”

“But even with that explanation I scarcely understand,” I insisted rather stubbornly.  “You say he pointed me out to you.  Really I was not aware that I was a distinguished character of any kind.  How did he happen to know me?”

“Because he was present at your trial before Lord Jeffries.  He merely chanced to be there when you were first brought up, but became interested in the case, and so returned to hear you sentenced.  You are Geoffry Carlyle, in command of the ship that brought Monmouth to England.  I heard it all.”