He saw how lined and sunken was her face, he noted the weakness of her
carriage, he realized the task he was putting on her, and his heart
relented. "No, I will do it," he added, with sudden will, "and I will do
it now, if I may."

"Oh, not to-day-not to-day!" she said with a piteous look. "Let it not
be to-day. It is our first day here, and we are due at King's House
to-night, even in an hour from now."

"You want her at her glorious best, is that it?" It seemed too strange
that the pure feminine should show at a time of crisis like this, but
there it was. It was this woman's way. But he added presently: "When she
asks you what we have talked about, what will you say?"

"Is it not easy? I am a mother," she said meaningly.

"And I am an ex-convict, and a mutineer--is that it?"

She inclined her head. "It should not be difficult to explain. When you
came I was speaking as I felt, and she will not think it strange if I
give that as my reason."

"But is it wise? Isn't it better to end it all now? Suppose Lord Mallow
tells her."

"He did not before. He is not likely now," was the vexed reply. "Is it a
thing a gentleman will speak of to a lady?"

"But you do not know Mallow. If he thought she had seen me to-day, he
would not hesitate. What would you do if you were Lord Mallow?"

"No, not to-day," she persisted. "It is all so many years ago. It can
hurt naught to wait a little longer."

"When and where shall it be?" he asked gloomily. "At Salem--at Salem. We
shall be settled then--and steady. There is every reason why you should
consider me. I have suffered as few women have suffered, and I do not
hate you. I am only sorry."

Far down at the other end of the garden he saw Sheila. Her face was in
profile--an exquisite silhouette. She moved slowly among the pimento
bushes.

"As you wish," he said with a heavy sigh. The sight of the girl
anguished his soul.

CHAPTER XVIII. AT SALEM

The plantation of Salem was in a region below the Pedro Plains in the
parish of St. Elizabeth, where grow the aloe, and torch-thistle, and
clumps of wood which alter the appearance of the plain from the South
Downs of England, but where thousands of cattle and horses even in those
days were maintained. The air of the district was dry and elastic, and
it filtered down to the valleys near like that where Salem was with its
clusters of negro huts and offices, its mills and distilleries where
sugar and rum were made. Salem was sit