THE UNMASKING
that the ship’s dry bones rattled and quivered under their feet like a being with the ague, and she seemed about to shake her timbers asunder. Mistress Barbara’s answer was not spoken, for at this rude sound a fit of trembling seized her again and she sank listlessly into the protecting shelter of his arms, and hid her face upon his bosom in a commingling of terror and wonderment that were only half real.
“No, no,” she sobbed at last, “it is not true. It is not true.”
Bras-de-Fer bent over her in a blind adoration and gently touched his lips to her hair. She made no further effort to resist him. Then, when the tear-stained face was raised to his own, in her eyes he read a different answer to his pleading.
“Bien adorée!” he whispered, kissing her tenderly—“Barbara!”
The hand within his own tightened and the lissome figure came closer to his own. “Take me away, monsieur,” she murmured. “Take me away. Oh, I am so weary—so weary.”
“Struggle no more,” he whispered. “Cour-
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