What would you do if you were Lord Mallow?"
"No, not to-day," she persisted. "It is all so many years ago. It can
hurt naught to wait a little longer."
"When and where shall it be?" he asked gloomily. "At Salem--at Salem.
We shall be settled then--and steady. There is every reason why you
should consider me. I have suffered as few women have suffered,
and I do not hate you. I am only sorry."
Far down at the other end of the garden he saw Sheila. Her face was in
profile--an exquisite silhouette. She moved slowly among the pimento
bushes.
"As you wish," he said with a heavy sigh. The sight of the girl
anguished his soul.
CHAPTER XVIII
AT SALEM
The plantation of Salem was in a region below the Pedro Plains in the
parish of St. Elizabeth, where grow the aloe, and torch-thistle, and
clumps of wood which alter the appearance of the plain from the South
Downs of England, but where thousands of cattle and horses even in those
days were maintained. The air of the district was dry and elastic, and
it filtered down to the valleys near like that where Salem was with its
clusters of negro huts and offices, its mills and distilleries where
sugar and rum were made.
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