"Humanity is more potent than the law, sir." My tears broke forth again.
"And," said the Captain, with great gentleness, "Lady Barbarity at every season and in every circumstance is always humane."
His voice made me shiver. There was a metallic harshness creeping out from underneath the velvet tones. His face, too, had grown dark with sneers and sardonic meaning. I struggled to be resolute, but the Fates were against me. The shadow of death was lying on my heart, and steel it as I might it could not forbear from trembling at the Captain's words, that were as cold as doom, and twice as cruel.
"My Lady Barbarity is ever humane," the Captain said. "There would be no pretext for her title else."
"I will confess, sir," says I, "that I never had any particular compassion for fools. In my opinion, sir, it is no worse to trample on a fool than it is to beat a dog."
"Well, madam," says the Captain, very like a judge, "that, I think, is a matter for your conscience. But is it not rather a flaw in policy, don't you think, to come to a fool on whom you have trampled with a plea for mercy?"
"Captain Grantley," says I, warningly.
"You must forgive my bluntness, madam," he continued, "but I, a fool, have been compelled to suffer greatly at your hands. You may have forgotten last year in London, and this very room but
