m holds as Franklin is rightfully Anne's?"

"Yes. Now you are beginning to see. But don't be in too much of a hurry.
I want to tell you how my elopement came about."

Ware nodded, and composed himself to listen. The Princess resumed.

"I was happy at first with George. I really was in love with him, and
for two years we were devoted to one another. Anne was born, and she
drew us still closer together. Then Denham chose to fall in love with
me. I repelled him with scorn, but did not tell my husband, as I dreaded
lest George, who had a fiery temper, should kill the man. I simply kept
Denham at his distance. He vowed to be revenged, and gradually ruined
George. He made him neglect the plantation, and spend more money than he
could afford. He induced him to drink, and then George, who had not a
very strong will, began to run after other women. I was furious, and
told him about Denham. He was so besotted with the creature that he
refused to listen to me. Powell tried to stop George's downward course,
but without result. Then he was called back to England, and I was left
to battle against my enemy alone. My father and mother were both dead,
and I could do nothing. Denham constantly inflamed George against me.
Our house was like hell."

Here she stopped to draw a long breath and control her emotion. Giles
pitied her profoundly, as he guessed how she had suffered. However, he
did not interrupt her, and she continued in a few moments.

"Prince Karacsay came to the island. He was travelling for pleasure, and
in his own yacht. He fell in love with me. Seeing how miserable I was,
he implored me to fly with him. But I would not. I had lost much of my
love for George, who, under the bad influence of Denham, treated me so
cruelly. But there was my child--my little Anne--to consider. I declined
to fly. Our plantation was not far from the seashore. In a creek the
Prince had anchored his yacht. Denham was making my husband jealous, and
my life became unbearable. Oh!"--she threw up her arms--"not even the
years of peace that I have had can obliterate the memory of that
terrible time." And she wept.

Still, Ware did not interrupt, thinking it best that she should not be
questioned too much. With a great effort she controlled herself, and
resumed her pitiful story.

"One night," she went on in a low voice, "the climax came. The Prince
had been to dinner. He had to go, because George was so violent. Denham
had got my husband to drink,