door slammed after the departing Admiral, Lord Julian turned to
Arabella, and actually smiled. He felt that he was doing better, and
gathered from it an almost childish satisfaction--childish in all the
circumstances. "Decidedly I think I had the last word there," he said,
with a toss of his golden ringlets.

Miss Bishop, seated at the cabin-table, looked at him steadily, without
returning his smile. "Does it matter, then, so much, having the last
word? I am thinking of those poor fellows on the Royal Mary. Many of
them have had their last word, indeed. And for what? A fine ship sunk,
a score of lives lost, thrice that number now in jeopardy, and all for
what?"

"You are overwrought, ma'am. I...."

"Overwrought!" She uttered a single sharp note of laughter. "I assure
you I am calm. I am asking you a question, Lord Julian. Why has this
Spaniard done all this? To what purpose?"

"You heard him." Lord Julian shrugged angrily. "Blood-lust," he
explained shortly.

"Blood-lust?" she asked. She was amazed. "Does such a thing exist, then?
It is insane, monstrous."

"Fiendish," his lordship agreed. "Devil's work."

"I don't understand. At Bridgetown three years ago there was a Spanish
raid, and things were done that should have been impossible to men,
horrible, revolting things which strain belief, which seem, when I
think of them now, like the illusions of some evil dream. Are men just
beasts?"

"Men?" said Lord Julian, staring. "Say Spaniards, and I'll agree."
He was an Englishman speaking of hereditary foes. And yet there was a
measure of truth in what he said. "This is the Spanish way in the New
World. Faith, almost it justifies such men as Blood of what they do."

She shivered, as if cold, and setting her elbows on the table, she took
her chin in her hands, and sat staring before her.

Observing her, his lordship noticed how drawn and white her face had
grown. There was reason enough for that, and for worse. Not any other
woman of his acquaintance would have preserved her self-control in such
an ordeal; and of fear, at least, at no time had Miss Bishop shown any
sign. It is impossible that he did not find her admirable.

A Spanish steward entered bearing a silver chocolate service and a box
of Peruvian candies, which he placed on the table before the lady.

"With the Admiral's homage," he said, then bowed, and withdrew.

Miss Bishop took no heed of him or his offering, but continued to stare
before her, lost