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"Martin!" said he in choking voice, and then again, "Oh, Martin Conisby, thus hath God answered my prayer and thus doth the feud betwixt Conisby and Brandon end " "Yes!" said I. "Yes so do I know at last that I have followed a vain thing and lost all the sweetness life had to offer." Now here, seeing me lie thus deject and forlorn, he stooped and set his ragged arm about me.
At this she whipped her hand from my arm and turned to frown up at me whiles I scowled sullenly on her. "Why then, Master Conisby," says she, "I would you were anywhere but here. And know this when you scowl so, all sullen-eyed, I know you for the very image of Black Bartlemy!"
"Ha!" cried I fiercely, bending over her in the dimness until I might stare into her eyes, wide and dark in the pale oval of her face, "Will ye dare " "A child," says she again, nodding at me, "lost and wilful and very selfish with no thought above Martin Conisby and his wrongs. Nay, scowl not nor grind your teeth, 'tis vain!
"As the sailor-man who watched you as you lay a-groaning in your sleep outside the Conisby Arms, I guessed you one o' the Conisby breed by your ring, and as one born and bred here in Kent I mind well the adage, 'To hate like a Brandon and revenge like a Conisby, and by God, my lord, you are a true Conisby, it seemeth! Vengeance!" says he, his thin features grown sharp and austere, "Ah!
O Martin, when I think of all these wonders, these great diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, pearls and rubies I do tingle!" "And can these toys so please you?" says I. "Yes!" cries she, "Yes, and so would they any other that was not a stock or a stone or Martin Conisby who is above such vanities!" "Vanities indeed!" says I, "In this wilderness more especially."
"Would you kill me?" says she, all unflinching and with eyes that never wavered. "Would you murder a helpless maid Martin Conisby?" The rapier fell to the rug at my feet and lay there, my breath caught, and thus we stood awhile, staring into each other's eyes. "Martin Conisby is dead!" says I at last.
Come then, Martin Conisby, your hand upon my throat, your fetter-chain about my neck " "Have done!" said I. "Have done!" And getting up, I crossed to the extremest corner of the dungeon and cast myself down there. But in a little he was beside me again, bearing the lanthorn and with straw from his bed for my pillow, whereupon I cursed and bade him begone, but he never stirred.
With the eye of my mind I seemed to see a road winding 'twixt bloomy hedgerows, past chattering brooks and pleasant meadows, past sleepy hamlet bowered 'mid trees and so, 'neath a leafy shade, to where rose tall gates, their pillars crowned by couchant leopards wrought in the stone, and beyond these a broad avenue, its green shadow splashed with sunlight, leading away to the house of Conisby Shene with its wide terrace where stood my lady waiting and expectant; yet nowhere could I vision myself.
"Well, my lord?" says she in strange, breathless fashion, "And what now?" "Why now," says I, wearily, "it seems my vengeance is yet to seek." "Vengeance?" she cried, "Ah, God pity thee! Doth life hold for thee nought better?" "Nought!" "Vengeance is a consuming fire!" "So seek I vengeance!" "O Martin Conisby, bethink you! Vengeance is but a sickness of the mind a wasting disease "
"Martin Conisby," she amended in the same gentle voice, "Master Penfeather telleth you refused the honourable service I offered I pray you wherefore?" "Because I've no mind to serve a Brandon." "Yet you steal aboard my ship, Master Conisby, you eat the food my money hath paid for! Doth this suffice your foolish, stubborn pride?"
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