She told me the tale the other night, and
I've only elaborated it. “You Mr. "
The patient was asleep. Odd, but he had
never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of
the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it
was profoundly sad. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice
with dismay. To be free of outward distraction, he
shut his eyes and concentrated upon the scraps she had given him; and shortly,
with his eyes still closed, he began to describe Ruth's island: the mountain at one
end, with the ever-recurring scarves of mist drifting across the lava-scarred face;
the jungle at the foot of it; the dazzling border of white sand; the sprawling store
of the trader and the rotting wharf, sundrily patched with drift-wood; the native
huts on the sandy floor of the palm groves; the scattered sandalwood and ebony;
the screaming parakeets in the plantains; the fishing proas; the mission with its
white washed walls and barren frontage; the lagoon, fringed with coco palms,
now ruffled emerald, now placid sapphire. "
So she told him the adventure of the two beachcombers in the typhoon, and how
they became regenerated by their magnificent courage. ’
His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. "And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames. She would never return to
her father; that resolution was final.
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This video was uploaded to m.damaulifm.org on 05-07-2024 02:23:27