tubborn note she had come to
know so well in his voice--"sufficient from me to make you independent
for the rest of your life. Yes, from me, mademoiselle!" He looked her
straight in the eyes with something of his old arrogance. "You can
refuse, of course. No doubt you will refuse. But I can compel you. If
you will not have it as a gift, you shall have it as--a bequest."

He ceased, but he continued to sit with his eyes upon her, ready, she
knew, to beat down any and every objection she might raise.

She did not speak. She was for the moment too much surprised for speech;
but as his meaning dawned upon her, something that was greater than
either surprise or pity took possession of her, holding her silent. She
only, after several moments, rose and stood with her face turned from
him, watching through the porthole the waves that leaped by, all green
and amber, in the light of sunset.

"You understand me clearly, Mademoiselle Stephanie?" he asked at length,
in a voice that came harshly through the silence.

She moved slightly, but she did not turn.

"I have never understood you, monsieur," she made answer, her voice very
low.

He jerked his shoulders impatiently.

"At least you understand me on this point," he said curtly.

She was silent. At length:

"But you do not understand me," she said.

"Better than you fancy, mademoiselle," he answered bitterly. "I do not
think your feelings where I am concerned have ever been very
complicated."

Again slightly she moved without looking round.

"I wish you would tell your man to go," she said.

"Mademoiselle?" There was a note of surprise in the query.

"Tell him to go!" she reiterated, with nervous vehemence.

There fell an abrupt silence. Then she heard an imperious snap of the
fingers from Pierre, followed instantly by the steward's retiring
footsteps.

She waited till she heard them no longer, then slowly she turned. Pierre
had not moved from his chair. He was gripping the arms as before. She
stood with her back to the light, thankful for the dimness that obscured
her face.

"I--I have something to say to you, monsieur," she said.

"I am listening, mademoiselle," he responded briefly, not raising his
eyes.

"Ah, but you must help me," she said, and her voice shook a little.
"It--it is no easy thing that I have to say."

He made a fierce movement of unrest.

"How can I help you? I have given you your freedom. What more can I do?"

"You can spare me a