England, in which he must have been worsted, and which had left in his
mind a lurking desire for revenge. He dreamed of striking his enemy
through me, because of relationship, a cowardly blow. Yet this, by
itself alone, was scarcely a reason why he should have thus sought me
out for a victim. No sane man would deliberately visit the sins of my
brother on me. Nor had this been deliberate; it was the mere outburst
of sudden passion, arising through my intercourse with the young
woman. Otherwise it might never have occurred to him. So there was
seemingly but one answer--Sanchez used this merely as an excuse for
the concealment of his real object. What could that object be? Could
it be Dorothy Fairfax? I was a long while in actually convincing
myself of this probability, and yet no other satisfactory explanation
offered itself. She had exhibited an interest in me from the very
first, and he had endeavored to win her attention elsewhere. Even that
day when we first came aboard in chains, he had plainly evinced this
desire, and, since then, the girl had never appeared on deck, without
his immediately seeking her company. I felt finally that I had the
clue--jealousy, the mad, unreasoning jealousy of his race. He fiercely
resented her slightest interest in anyone--even a prisoner--as against
his own attractions. He was incapable of appreciating friendly
sympathy, and already held me a dangerous rival. Then, possibly, it
had not been a mere idle desire to visit the Colonies, which had
originally led to his prompt acceptance of Roger Fairfax's invitation
to make one of their party; the real attraction was the charms of
Dorothy--her girlish beauty, coupled, no doubt, with her father's
wealth. The fellow was in love, impetuously in love, resenting blindly
the slightest advance of any other.

The thought rather pleased me, largely because of its absurdity. It
was, in my case at least, so utterly false, and unjustifiable. To the