From that instant when I became convinced that she was of white blood--that no hideous barrier of race, no stain of dishonor, held us apart--she had become my one ambition.

I not only knew that I loved her; but I believed almost as strongly that she loved me.

Every glance of her eyes, each word she had spoken, remained indelibly in my memory.

And beyond doubt she thought me dead.

Kirby would have told her that both men in the wrecked boat went down.