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And noere on our feet, her hands ininto eyes and never award to speak

"Is it true?" says I at last, "God, Damaris--is it true?"

"Seems it so wonderful, dear Martin? Why, this love of h the years to Sir Martin, roith the years till now it filleth ot 'twas your picture hung opposite ht because it had been yours? And often, Martin, here on our dear island I have wept sometimes for love of you because it pained h I do yearn for your kisses! But this night is the greatest ever was or mayhap ever shall be, and we, alone here in the wild, do lie beyond all hureat love--and, O Martin, you--you do love me?"

Nohen I would have answered I could not, so I sank toere she knew, clasped and kissed the pretty feet of her

"No, Martin--beloved, ah no!" cries she as it were pain to her, and kneeling before me, set her soft arms about my neck "Martin," says she, "as we kneel thus in this wilderness alone with God, here and now, before your lips touchhands takeis e but this: Swear now in God's sight to renounce and put away all thought of vengeance now and for ever, swear this, Martin!"

Now I, all bemused by words so unexpected, all dazzled as it were by the pleading, passionate beauty of her, closed roaned

"'Twill be too late! Choose now, Martin"

"Let ht! Choose, Martin! This hour shall never coain, so, Martin--speak now or--"

The words died on her lip, her eyes opened in sudden dreadful aid in one another's arms, for, away across Deliverance, deep and full and clear a voice was singing: "There are two at the fore, At theall in a row; Here's fine dainty meat For the fishes to eat: Black Bartlemy--Bartlemy ho!"