whole of the time did she think of herself; the path of what she considered to be her duty lay before her, and the Beautiful White Devil, the notorious adventuress, the abductor of rich merchants, the terror of the China seas, trod it without murmur or complaint. It was a wonderful exhibition of womanly gentleness, forbearance, and endurance. And when I saw her, tired and almost dispirited by the results of the struggle, and noted how she put all this aside, assumed a smiling face to speak words of comfort to some sufferer, and then remembered the accusations and stories to which I had listened in the Victoria Hotel that first evening, I felt almost as mean and contemptible as it was possible for a man to be.
And here, gentle reader, let me make a confession, though I doubt if it will come upon you as a surprise. Already, I expect, you have accused me of being in love with the Beautiful White Devil. I do not deny that I was. Where so many better men had succumbed, who was I that I should go free? And surely if so many others had fallen captive to her mere beauty, knowing next to nothing of her real merit, I, who had exceptional opportunities of studying her character under every aspect, who saw her grave and gay, passionate and self-sacrificing, imperious and the most humble of any, might claim for my affection that it was based on something more tangible than any mere personal beauty.
Yes! I was in love with Alie, and, what is more, I am in love with her now, as I shall be in love with her on my dying day, and afterwards if that be possible. And this I can say truthfully, that throughout my love for her, my heart has known no unworthy thought. I
