“Home?” she asked. “To Weyanoke? That would not grieve me.”

“Not to Weyanoke, but to England,” I said. “The George is gone, but three days since the Esperance came in. When she sails again I think that we must go.”

She gazed at me with a whitening face. “And you?” she whispered. “How will you go? In chains?”

I took her clasped hands, parted them, and drew her arms around my neck. “Ay,” I answered, “I will go in chains that I care not to have broken. My dear love, I think that the summer lies fair before us. Listen while I tell thee of news that the Esperance brought.”

While I told of new orders from the Company to the