worn to help a man claim what is his own, this side or that of the
slave line. All the stars in the sky are sworn to help a man who
feels what I feel. Don't tempt me, don't try to drive me--it will
never do. I'll be harder to handle than the man who lost you to me
last evening in a game of cards,--and who went away last night and
left you--to me."

As she gazed at him she saw his hands clenched, his mouth
twitching. "You would do that, even--" she began. "I have never
known men grew thus unscrupulous. A game--a game at cards! And
I--was lost--I!--I! And also won? What can you mean? Am I then
indeed a slave, a chattel? Ah, indeed, now am I lost! My God, and
I have no country, no kin, no God, to avenge me!"

A sort of sob caught in his throat. "I was wrong!" he cried
suddenly. "I always say the wrong word, do the wrong thing, take
the wrong way. But--don't you remember about Martin Luther? He
said he couldn't help himself. 'Here stand I, I can not otherwise,
God help me!' That's just the way with me--you blame me, but I
tell you I can not otherwise. And I've told the truth. I've made
wreck of everything right now. You ask me to make plans; and I
tell you I can not. I would take you off the boat by force rather
than see you go away from me. This thing is not yet worked out to
the end. I'm not yet done. That's all I know. You'll have to go
along with me."

A sudden revulsion swept over him. He trembled as he stood, and
reached out a hand.

"Give me a chance!" he broke out, sobered now. "It was a new
thing, this feeling. Come, you sent for me--you asked me--that
other man placed me in his stead as your guardian. He didn't know
I would act in this way, that's true. I own I've been brutal. I
know I've forgotten everything, but it came over me all at once,
something new. Why, look at us two together--what could stop us?
Always I've lacked something: I did not know what. Now I know.
Give me my chance. Let me try again!"

In this strange, strained position, she caught, in spite of
herself, some sort of genuine note underneath the frankness of his
ungovernable passion. For once, she was in a situation where she
could neither fathom motives nor arrange remedies. She stood in
sheer terror, half fascinated in spite of all.

They both were silent for a while, but at length she resumed, not
so ungently: "Then let there be this contract between us, sir.
Neither of us shall make any further s