a week ago, but I can assure you, madam, that I have not. I have passed through a purgatory of hope and jealousy, and for what reason, madam? Simply that, to serve your private ends, you have deigned to shoot a few smiles out of your eyes. And under your pardon, madam, I will say those eyes of yours are poisoned daggers that corrupt everything they strike. At least, I know they have corrupted my very soul."
He ended this strange speech with a groan. There was a still passion in him that was alarming. If ever a man meant mischief, surely this was he.
"But, sir," I said, "you must understand that I am not pleading for myself."
"No, only for the man you love," says he.
I saw he was white to the lips.
"Sir," says I, "if this were not so nonsensical, I should deem it an impertinence."
"It is only to saints that plain truths are inoffensive," the Captain answered.
Again and yet again I returned to the attack, only to discover that I had to deal with a cold man kindled. Here was a person not to be fired easily; a chance spark would not light him; but once ablaze and he would not cease burning until the whole of him was ashes. I had only to look at his face observantly to find proofs of the havoc I had caused. His eyes were bright and hollow; his cheeks had fallen in. Hitherto I had held these the signs of the mind's anxiety at his long captivity and his prisoner's escape. But had I plumbed deeper
