ought to know best. Shall I forgive, Ralph,
shall I forgive?'

There was to me something infinitely touching in the way in which she
spoke to me, as if she felt she had a claim upon me--the claim that a
sister might have upon a brother.

I told her that Mr. Ebrow, being a man of God, was a better guide and
counsellor than I, but that forgiveness was a noble charity. Indeed, I
was at a loss what to say, with my heart so wrung.

'Well, well,' she said, 'let us forgive and forget,' and--for there was
no restraint upon the movements of the woman--she moved toward the side,
where they were lifting the manacled prisoners on board. Jensen was in
the first batch, but not the first to be brought on board, and he
carried himself sullenly, with his eyes cast down, and seemed to notice
nothing as he was brought up on the deck. The prisoners were so securely
bound that no especial guard was placed over them during the process of
taking them from the boats, and so, before I was aware of it, Barbara
had slipped by me and between the Dutch sailors, and was by Jensen's
side. For the moment I thought that she had come to carry out her
promise of forgiveness; but Jensen lifted his face, and I saw it, and
saw that it was writhed with a great horror and a great fear. And then I
saw her lift her hand, and saw a knife in her hand, and the next moment
she had driven it once and twice into his breast by the heart, and
Jensen dropped like a log, and his blood ran over the deck. Then she
turned to me, and her face was as red as fire, and she cried out,
'Forgive and forget!' and so drove the knife into her own body and fell
in her turn. It was all done so swiftly that there was no time for
anyone to lift a hand to interfere, and when we came to lift them up
they were both dead. This was the end of that beautiful woman, and this
the end of Cornelys Jensen. He should have lived to be hanged; it was
too good a death for him to die by her hand; but I can understand how it
seemed to her hot blood and her wronged womanhood that she could only
wash out her shame by shedding her wronger's blood. May Heaven have
mercy upon her!

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE LAST OF THE SHIP

It was many a weary month before we saw Sendennis again, but we did see
it again. For Captain Marmaduke was so dashed by the untoward results of
his benevolence and the failure of his scheme that he saw nothing better
to do than to turn homeward, after mending his fortunes by th