moments he had betrayed himself.  For the first time he noticed that her face was scratched and that the sleeves of her thin waist were torn to shreds; and as she drew away from him, steadying herself with a hand on his arm, his lips were parched of words, and yet he leaned to her eagerly, everything that he would have said burning in the love of his eyes.  Still irresolute in her faintness the girl smiled at him, and in that smile there was gentle accusation, the sweetness of forgiveness, and measureless gratitude, and it was yet light enough for him to see that with these there had come also a flush into her cheeks and a dazzling glow into her eyes.

“Neil has escaped!” she breathed.  “And you—­”

“I was going back to you, Marion!” He spoke the words hardly above a whisper.  The beautiful eyes so close to him drew his secret from him before he had thought.  “I am going to take you from the island!”

With his words there came again that sound of a great gun rolling from the direction of St. James.  With a frightened cry the girl staggered to her feet, and as she stood swaying unsteadily, her arms half reached to him, Nathaniel saw only mortal dread in the whiteness of her face.

“Why didn’t you go?  Why didn’t you go with Neil?” she moaned.  Her breath was coming in sobbing excitement.  “Your ship is—­at—­St. James!”

“Yes, my ship is at St. James, Marion!” His voice was tremulous with triumph, with gladness, with a tenderness which he could not control.  He put an arm half round her waist to support her trembling form and to his joy she did not move away from him.  His hand was buried in the richness of her loose hair.  He bent until his lips touched her silken tresses.  “Neil has told me everything—­about you,” he added softly.  “My ship is bombarding St. James, and I am going to take you from the island!”

Not until then did Marion free herself from his arm and then so gently that when she stood facing him he felt no reproof.  No longer did shame send a flush into his face.  He had spoken his love, though not in words, and he knew that the girl understood him.  It did not occur to him in these moments that he had known this girl for only a few hours, that until now a word had never passed between them.  He was conscious only that he had loved her from the time he saw her through the king’s window, that he had risked his life for her, and that she knew why he had leaped into the arena at the whipping-post.

The words she spoke now came like a dash of cold water in his face.

“Your ship is not bombarding St. James, Captain Plum!” she exclaimed.  Darkness hid the terror in her face but he could hear the tremble of it in her voice.  “The Typhoon has been captured by the Mormons and those guns are—­guns of triumph—­and not—­” She caught her breath in a convulsive sob.  “I want you to go—­I want you to go—­with Neil!” she pleaded.

“So Casey is taken!”