"Mr. Portlack, from the moment of my fainting on that dreadful night, down to my awaking yesterday, I seem to remember nothing. I say I _seem_, and yet I am haunted by a sort of horrid memory--how shall I express it? It is the shadow of a recollection, and that recollection again is, as it were," pressing her brow as though struggling to deeply realize her thought, "no more than the memory of the shadow of something horrible. Am I meaningless to you?"
She viewed me anxiously and searchingly, and said, "Have I been mad?"
"You were insensible when you were brought aboard, and you awoke from your extraordinary stupor for the first time yesterday."
"Mr. Portlack, tell me, have I been out of my mind?"
Hating a lie as I do, I was yet resolved that she should not know the truth, and I said "No" with so much emphasis that her face instantly cleared. She smiled, and clasped her hands. "Ah!" she exclaimed, breathing deep as though she sighed, "in so long and dreadful a slumber I must have dreamed many fearful dreams."
I wished to disengage her mind from this subject, and I was also desirous that she should understand, without further loss of time, how it happened that I made one of the kidnaping gang.
"With your permission," said I, "I will tell you my story, which, I believe, you will think a strange one even in the experiences of a sea-faring person."
She watched me with attention, and I proceeded to relate my adventures, beginning with the Ocean Ranger, and then going on to the American ship, to my distressful and perilous situation in the open boat, and then to this schooner La Casandra falling in with me; thus I steadily worked my way right through my own yarn, omitting nothing save the incident of the death of Don Christoval. That she was a young lady of much strength of character I might now be sure of by her manner of listening to me. I was graphic enough, particularly in my description of our arrival off the coast of Cumberland; nevertheless, she attended to me with composure, with firm lips and steady regard. No exclamation escaped her. Once or twice she sighed, and once she colored, as though from some sudden passion of resentment swiftly controlled.
"And now, Miss Noble," said I, "I hope I have made you understand how it happens that I am here?"