A WOMAN--A RECOVERY--TRANSFORMATIONS AND TWO RESOLVES.
When Ellison felt himself able to move again, he rose to his feet and
looked about him. He discovered that they had landed on the shore of a
little bay, bounded on one side by a miniature cliff and on the other by
a dense tropical jungle; through this latter looked out the white roofs
of the boat-sheds and houses of the pearling station of which they had
come in search. Two columns of palest blue smoke rose above the palms,
and after a glance at his still insensible companion he started towards
them.
Leaving the white sandy foreshore of the bay, he entered the thicket by
what was certainly a well-worn path. This circled round the headland,
and eventually brought him out on the hill above the beach. Stepping
clear of the undergrowth, he found himself confronted by a number of
buildings of all sizes and descriptions. The nearest he settled in his
own mind was a store-shed; that adjoining it, to the left, was the
Kanakas' hut; that to the left, again, their kitchen; that to the right,
rather higher on the hill, with its long low roof, the station house
itself. As he approached it, two or three mongrel curs ran out and
barked vociferous defiance, but he did not heed them. He passed the
store, and made towards the veranda. As he came closer, a strange enough
figure in his dripping rags, he saw that he was observed. A young woman,
possibly not more than three-and-twenty, was standing on the steps
awaiting him. She was, if one may judge by what the world usually
denominates beauty, rather handsome than beautiful, but there was also
something about her that was calculated to impress the mind far more
than mere pink and white prettiness. Her figure was tall and shapely;
her features pronounced, but regular; her eyes were the deepest shade of
brown; and her wealth of nut-brown hair, upon which a struggling ray of
sunlight fell, was carelessly rolled behind her head in a fashion that
added to, rather than detracted from, her general appearance.
Ellison lifted his hat as he came towards her. She looked him up and
down with the conscious air of a superior, and was the first to speak.
"Well, my man," she said, without embarrassment, "what do you want
here?"
"In the first place, I want your help. I tried to swim the straits with
a companion; he was nearly drowned, and is now lying unconscious on the
shore down yonder."
He pointed in the direction he had come.
"Good gracious! and you're wasting time on words." She picked up a
sun-bonnet lying on a chair beside her, and put it on, calling: "Mrs.
Fenwick, Mrs. Fenwick!"
In answer, an elderly person wearing a widow's cap appeared from the
house.
"Have blankets warmed and put in the hut over yonder. Don't lose a
minute." Then turning to the astonished Ellison she said: "I'll be with
you in one moment," and departed into the house.
Before he had time to speculate as to her errand, she reappeared with a
bottle of brandy in her hand.
"Now, come along. If he's as bad as you say, there's not a moment to
lose."
They set off down the path, and as they passed the Kanakas' hut, she
cried:
"Jimmy Rhotoma!"
A big Kanaka rolled out of the kitchen.
"Man drowned along Alligator Bay. Look sharp!"
Then signing to her companion to follow, she set off at a run across
the space between the huts and along the scrub-path towards the sea.
Ellison followed close behind her, dimly conscious of the graceful
figure twisting and turning through the undergrowth ahead of him. When
she reached the open land on the other side of the headland, she paused
and looked about her; then, making out the figure stretched upon the
sands, she ran towards it. With a swiftness that betokened considerable
experience she placed her hand upon his heart. No, he was not dead; it
was not too late to save him. As she came to this conclusion, Jimmy
Rhotoma appeared, and the trio set to work to restore animation. It was
some time before their efforts were rewarded. Then Murkard sighed
wearily, half-opened his eyes, and rolled his head over to the other
side.
"He'll do now, poor fellow," said the woman, still chafing his left
hand. "But it was a very close thing. What on earth induced you to try
and swim the straits?"
"Despair, I suppose. We're both of us as nearly done for as it is
possible for men to be. We tried the settlement yesterday for work, but
nothing offered. Then we heard of your station, and thought we'd swim
across on chance."
"I don't know that I altogether like the look of either of you.
Beach-combers, I fancy, aren't you?"
"We're Englishmen who have experienced the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune, with a vengeance. I suppose _you_ would call us
beach-combers, now I come to think of it. However, if you can give us
work, I can promise you we'll do it, and do it faithfully. If you
can't--well, perhaps you'll give us a meal a piece, just to put strength
into us for the swim back."
"Well, I'll think about it. In the meantime we must get your mate up to
the station. Jimmy, you take his head, you--by the way, what's your
name?"
"Ellison--Cuthbert Ellison."
"Very well then, Ellison, you take his heels. That's right, now bring
him along."
Between them, and led by the woman, they carried Murkard up the path to
the station. Arriving at a hut, near that from which the Kanaka had been
summoned, she stopped, took a key from a bunch in her pocket, unlocked
the door, and threw it open. It was small, but scrupulously clean. Two
camp bedsteads were ranged beside the wall, furnished with coarse blue
blankets; a tin wash-hand basin stood on a box at the far end, alongside
it a small wooden table, with a six-inch looking-glass above that
again.
"You can occupy this hut for the present. Put him down on that bed, so!
Before I take it away give him a drop more brandy. That's right. I think
he'll do now. If you don't want a spell yourself you'd better come with
me."
Ellison arranged Murkard's head upon his pillow, glanced almost
unconsciously at himself in the square of glass, and then followed her
out of the hut, and across the yard to the veranda opposite. Arriving
there she seated herself in a hammock, that swung across the corner, and
once more looked him up and down.
"I don't think you need have told me you were an Englishman!" she said
at length.
"Why not?" he asked, without any real curiosity. He was watching the
shapely feet and ankles swinging beneath the hammock.
"Because I could see it for myself. Your voice is the voice of an
Englishman, your face is the face of an Englishman, and, if I wanted any
further proof, I should convince myself by your walk. Have you ever
noticed that your countrymen" (she spoke as if Australians were not
Englishmen), "Britishers, I mean, walk in quite a different fashion from
our men? You haven't noticed it, I see. Well, I'm afraid, then, you
haven't cultivated the faculty of observation."
"I have had things of more importance to think about lately."
"Oh, I beg your pardon! I had quite forgotten. Sit down for one moment."
She pointed to a long cane-chair. He seated himself, and she disappeared
inside the house. In less than five minutes she returned with a bundle
in her arms.
"Here you are--some clothes for you and your mate. You needn't thank me
for them. They belonged to a man from your own country, who went to the
bottom six months ago in one of our luggers, a degree east of the
D'Entrecasteaux group. Take them over to the hut and change. When you've
done that come back here, and I'll have some lunch ready for you."
As soon as she had given him the bundle she turned on her heel and
vanished into the house, without giving him an opportunity of uttering
an expression of his thanks. He looked after her as if he would like to
have said something, but changed his mind and crossed to his hut.
Murkard was still asleep, so he did not disturb him. Throwing the bundle
on his own bed, he started to examine it. To the man who has lived in
rags there is something that is apt to be almost discomposing in the
sudden possession of a decent wardrobe. Ellison turned the dead man's
effects over with a strange thrill. Ashamed as he was of his sordid
rags, there was something to him indescribably beautiful about these
neat tweeds, linen shirts, collars, socks, and white canvas shoes.
Selecting those which looked nearest his own size, he prepared to make
his toilet. A razor lay upon the dressing-table, a shaving brush stood
on a tiny bracket above the tin wash-hand basin. A shave was a luxury he
had not indulged in for some time. He lathered his face, stropped the
razor on his belt, and fell to work. In three minutes the ugly stubble
on his cheeks and chin had disappeared. Five minutes later he was
dressed and a new man. With the help of water, a well-worn hair-brush,
and his fingers, his matted locks were reduced to something like order,
his luxuriant brown mustache received an extra twirl, and he was
prepared to face the world once more, in outward appearance at least, a
gentleman. Esther McCartney watched him cross the path from a window
opposite, and noticed that he carried himself with a new swing. She
allowed a smile, that was one of half pity, to flicker across her face
as she saw it, and then went into the veranda to receive him.
"They fit you beautifully," said she, referring to the clothes. "You
look like a new man."
"How can I thank you? I feel almost like my old self once more. I
tremble to think what a figure I must have cut half an hour ago."
"Never mind that. Now come and have something to eat."
He followed her into the sitting room. It was a pretty place, and showed
on all sides evidences of a woman's controlling hand. The weatherboard
walls were nicely stained, a painted canvas cloth took the place of a
plaster ceiling; numerous pictures, mostly water-colours, and many of
them of considerable merit, hung on either hand, interspersed with
curiosities of the deep, native weapons, and other odds and ends
accumulated from among the thousand and one islands of the Southern
seas. In the furthest corner Ellison noticed an open piano, with a piece
of music on the rest. But the thing which fascinated him beyond all
others was the meal spread upon the centre-table. Its profusion nearly
took his breath away--beef, tomato salad, pickles, cheese, and a bottle
of home-brewed beer. At her command he seated himself and ravenously set
to work. All the time he was eating she sat in a deep chair by the
window and watched him with an amused smile upon her face. When he had
taken off the first raw edge, she spoke:
"Do you know, I don't think that black eye is exactly becoming to you."
Ellison made as if he would like to cover it up.
"Oh, you can't hide it now. I noticed it directly you showed yourself
this morning. I wonder who gave it you? for of course you've been
fighting. I don't like a quarrelsome man!"
"I'm sorry I should appear before you in such a bad light, for naturally
I want to stand well with you."
"I understand. You mean about the billet. Well, will you tell me how you
got it--the eye, I mean?"
"Willingly, if you think it will make my case any better."
"I'm not quite sure that it will, but you'd better go on."
She laid herself back in the great chair and folded her hands behind her
head. Her face struck him in a new light. There was an expression on it
he had not expected to find there; its presence harmonised with the
pictures and the piano and made him pause before he spoke. In that
moment he changed his mind and let the words he was about to speak die
unuttered.
"The story is simple enough. I was drawn into a quarrel and obliged to
fight a man. I broke his jaw, he gave me this and this."
He pointed first to his eye and then to his ear. She nodded her head and
smiled.
"Do you know that you have come out of that test very well?"
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."
"Well, then, let me tell you. I was trying you. I didn't really want to
know how you got that bruise, because--well, because, you see, I knew
beforehand. I've heard the whole story. You stood up for your deformed
friend and thrashed the man who was coward enough to strike him. That is
the correct version, I think, isn't it? Ah, I see it is. Well, Paddy the
Lasher, the man you fought, is one of our hands. I had only just
returned from making inquiries about him when you turned up this
morning. I like your modesty, and if you'll let me, I think I'll shake
hands with you on it!"
Without knowing exactly why he did it, Ellison rose and gravely shook
hands with her. In these good clothes his old manner, in a measure, came
back to him, and he felt able to do things with a grace that had long
been foreign to his actions. He sat down again, drank off his beer, and
turned once more to her.
"How can I thank you enough for your goodness to me? I have never
enjoyed a meal so much in my life."
"I am glad of that. I think you look better than you did an hour ago. It
must be awful to be so hungry."
"It is, and I am more than grateful to you for relieving it. I hope you
will believe that."
"I think I do. And now about your friend. Don't you think you had better
go and look after him? I have told the cook to send some food across to
the hut. Will you see that he eats it?"
"Of course I will. I'll go at once."
He rose and went towards the door. She had risen too, and now stood with
one hand upon the mantelpiece, the other toying with the keys hanging
from her belt. The fresh breeze played through the palm fronds beyond
the veranda, and whisked the dry sand on to the clean white boards. He
wanted to set one matter right before he left.
"As I said just now, I'm afraid I don't appear to very great advantage
in your eyes," he remarked.
"I'm not exactly sure that you do," she answered candidly. "But I'll see
if I can't let by-gones be by-gones. Remember, however, if I do take you
on you must both show me that my trust is not misplaced."
"For myself I will promise that."
"It may surprise you to hear that I am not so much afraid of your mate
as of yourself. I have seen his face, and I think I like it."
"I'm certain you're right. I am a weak man; he is not. If either of us
fails you, I don't think it will be Murkard."
"I like you better for sticking up for your friend."
"I am sorry for that, because you may think I do it for effect."
"I'll be better able to tell you about that later on. Now go."
He raised his hat and crossed from the veranda to the hut. Murkard was
awake and was sitting up on the bed.
"Thank Heaven you've come back, old man. Where the deuce am I, and how
did I get here? My memory's gone all to pieces, and, from the parched
condition of my tongue, my interior must be following it. Have I been
ill, or what?"
"You've been jolly near drowned, if that's any consolation to you. We
were swimming the strait, don't you remember, when you suddenly
collapsed. You gave me an awful fright."
"Then you saved my life?"
"I suppose folk would call it by that name."
"All right. That's another nick in the score. I'm obliged to you. You
have a big reckoning against me for benefits conferred. Be sure,
however, I'll not forget it if ever the opportunity occurs. And now what
does this pile of goodly raiment mean? By Jove! methinks I smell food,
and it makes me ravenous."
The door opened and Rhotoma Jimmy appeared with a tray.
"Young missis send this longa you."
"All right, old man, put it down over there. I believe I'm famished
enough to eat both the victuals and the tray."
"Go ahead, and while you're eating I'll talk. In the first place, your
scheme has succeeded admirably. I have spoken to the girl, interested
her in us, and I think she'll take us on."
"Good! You're a diplomatist after my own heart."
"But, old man, there must be no hanky-panky over this. If we get the
billets we must play fair by her--we must justify her confidence."
"As bad as all that, and in this short time, eh? Well, I suppose it's
all right. Yes, we'll play fair."
"Don't run away with any nonsense of that sort. The girl is a decent
little thing, but nothing more. She has been very good to us, and I'd
rather clear out at once than let any harm come to her from either of
us--do you understand?"
"Perfectly." He finished his meal in silence, and then threw himself
down upon the bed. "Now let me get to sleep again. I'm utterly played
out. Drunk last night and nearly drowned to-day is a pretty fair record,
in all conscience."
Ellison left the hut, and that he might not meet his benefactress again
so soon, went for a stroll along the beach. The tide was out and the
sand was firm walking. He had his own thoughts for company, and they
were in the main pleasant ones. He had landed on his feet once more,
just when he deemed he had reached the end of his tether. Whatever else
it might be, this would probably be his last bid for respectability; it
behooved him, therefore, to make the most of it. He seated himself on a
rock just above high-water mark and proceeded to think it out.
Murkard slept for another hour, and then set to work to dress himself.
Like Ellison, he found the change of raiment very acceptable. When he
was ready he looked at himself in the glass with a new interest, which
passed off his face in a sneer as his eyes fell upon the reflection of
his ungainly, inartistic back.
"Certainly there's devilish little to recommend me in that," he said
meditatively. "And yet there was a time when my society was sought
after. I wonder what the end of it all will be?"
He borrowed a pair of scissors from the Kanaka cook, and with them
trimmed his beard to a point. Then, selecting a blue silk scarf from
among the things sent him, he tied it in a neat bow under his white
collar, donned his coat, which accentuated rather than, diminished the
angularity of his hump, and went out into the world. Esther McCartney
was sitting in the veranda sewing. She looked up on hearing his step and
motioned him towards her. He glanced at her with considerable curiosity,
and he noticed that under his gaze she drooped her eyes. Her hands were
not as white as certain hands he had aforetime seen, but they were well
shaped--and one of the nails upon the left hand had a tiny white spot
upon it that attracted his attention.
"You had a narrow escape this morning. Your friend only just got you
ashore in time."
"So I believe. I am also in _your_ debt for kindnesses received--this
change of raiment, and possibly my life. It is a faculty of mine to be
always in debt to somebody. I may probably repay you when I can; in the
meantime it will be better for us both if I endeavour to forget all
about it."
"Isn't that rather a strange way of talking?"
"Very possibly. But you see I am a strange man. Nature has ordained that
I should not be like other men. I don't know altogether whether I'm the
worse for it. I'm a little weak after my trouble this morning; have you
any objection to my sitting down?"
"Take that seat, you'll find it more comfortable."
She pointed to a loose canvas-backed chair near the steps. He smiled as
he had done in the hut when he had looked at his image in the glass. The
other chairs were hard-backed, and it proved that she had been thinking
of his deformity when she chose this one. He seated himself and placed
his hat on the floor beside him. She took in at a glance his pale,
sensitive face, curious eyes, and long white fingers, and as she looked
she came to a conclusion.
"Your friend, Mr. Ellison, wants me to give you employment. Until a
minute ago I had not made up my mind. Now I think I shall do so."
"I knew you would."
"How did you know it?"
"By the way you dropped your hand on the back of that chair just now.
Well, I'm very glad. It is good of you. You know nothing about us,
however, remember that. Don't trust us too far until you are more
certain of our honesty. Sir Walter Raleigh, I would have you not
forget, says, 'No man is wise or safe but he that is honest.' It is for
you to find our honesty out."
"You talk as if you were taking me into your employ, instead of its
being the other way about."
"So you noticed it? I was just thinking the same thing myself. It's a
habit of mine. Forgive it."
"Somehow I think I shall like you. You talk in a way I'm not quite used
to, but I fancy we shall hit it off together."
"I make no promises. I have some big faults, but I'll do my best to
amend them. You have heard of one of them."
"I have, but how did you know?"
"By your eyes and the way your lips curled when I used the word
'faults.' Yes, unhappily I am a drunkard. I need make no secret of it. I
have fought against it, how hard you would never guess; but it beats me
every time. It killed my first life, and I'm not quite sure it won't
kill my second."
"Your first life! What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I say. I am a creature of two lives. You don't surely
suppose I was always the beach-comber you see before you now?"
"I did not think about it."
"Forgive me! That is not quite true. It was one of the first thoughts in
your mind when you saw me come out of the hut yonder."
"How is it you can read my thoughts like this?"
"Practice in the study of faces, that's all. Another bad habit."
"But if I take you on you will give up the liquor, won't you? It seems
such a pity that a man should throw himself away like that when there's
so much in the world worth living for."
"That's, of course, if there is. Suppose, for the sake of argument,
there is nothing? Suppose that a man has forfeited all right to
self-respect--suppose he has been kicked out of house and home, deprived
of his honour, disowned even by those who once loved him best--would you
think it foolish if he attempted to find a City of Refuge in the Land of
Alcohol?"
"Are you that man?"
Her face grew very gentle and her voice soft, as she put the question.
"I simply instance an example to confute your argument. May I change the
subject? What is my work to be? Much must of course depend on that. Like
the elephant, my strength is in my head rather than my hands, certainly
not in my legs."
"Our store-keeper and book-keeper left us a month ago. Since then I have
been doing his work. Are you good at figures?"
"Fairly; that sort of work would suit me admirably, and would, I
believe, enable me to give you satisfaction. And, my friend----But here
he comes to ask for himself."
Ellison was sauntering slowly up the path. He looked a fine figure of a
man in the evening sunlight. His borrowed plumes fitted and suited him
admirably. He lifted his hat with the air of a court chamberlain when he
came to the veranda steps.
"I am glad to see you about again," he said to Murkard, who was
examining him critically, "you certainly look better."
"I am, as I have already said, a different man."
"You look happier, certainly."
"I have just received my appointment to a position of trust."
Ellison glanced at the woman. She laughed and nodded.
"Yes, I have put him on as book-keeper and store-man. It's a billet
worth a pound a week and his keep."
"It is very generous of you."
"Oh, but that's not all. If you care to stay you can do so as general
knockabout hand on the same terms. There will be a good deal that will
want looking to now that you've disabled Paddy the Lasher. You can
occupy the hut where you are now, and I'll tell Rhotoma Jimmy to serve
your meals in the barracks across the way."
"I hope we shall show ourselves worthy of your trust."
"I hope you will; but no more black eyes, remember. The sooner you get
rid of the one you're wearing the better I shall like you. You'll find
my father, when he returns, will take to you sooner without it. And now
you'd better go and get your teas."
She rose to go inside. They stepped from the veranda. Ellison happened
to look round. Her head was half turned, and she was watching him. Their
eyes met, and the next moment she had vanished into the house.
The two men walked across to their hut in silence. When they reached it,
they sat themselves down on their respective beds and looked at each
other. Murkard opened the conversation.
"You were going to say that you cannot imagine why she has done this?
Isn't that so?"
"Yes. I _was_ just going to do so. How on earth did you guess it?"
"Never mind that. But you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick, my
boy. She's not doing it for the reason you suppose. Would it surprise
you very much to be told that in all probability it is done for _my_
sake. No, don't laugh; and yet I really do think it is, and I'll tell
you why. There was uncertainty written in her face and, well, if I must
say it, a little bit of distrust of you, until I appeared upon the
scene. Then you know my way with women. I told her the plain,
unvarnished truth, without any compliments or gilt edging of any sort.
Painted myself as a gentleman gone a-mucker, hopeless cripple, etc.,
etc. Then she dropped that infernal business air, and her womanly side
came uppermost. That decided for us--I am appointed Paymaster-General;
while you, if you play your cards well, may be anything from Grand
Vizier downward. I think you have reason to congratulate yourself."
"Murkard, you are playing fair, aren't you?"
Murkard turned white as death.
"Playing fair! you are playing fair, aren't you? What the devil makes
you use those infernal words to me again? My God, man! do you want to
send me into hell a raving lunatic?"
He ran his fingers through his long hair and glared at his companion,
who sat too astonished at this sudden outburst to speak. But after a
few moments he cooled down and resumed his natural, half-cynical tone:
"I beg your pardon. Hope I didn't startle you very much. Habit of mine.
What beastly things words are. How they bring up like a flash the very
things one's been trying for years to forget. Yes, yes! I intend to do
my duty by this girl. I promise you that. By the way, that's the second
time you've asked me that question this afternoon."
"I wanted to make certain, that was all. What are you staring at? Are
you mad?"
"No, I think not. I was only wondering."
Ellison rose and went to the door. Leaning against the post he had an
uninterrupted view of the still waters of the bay. Hardly a ripple
disturbed its surface. The sun was in the last act of sinking into his
crimson bed, and as he went he threw a parting shaft of blood-red light
across the deep. Everything stood out with an unusual distinctness.
Across the straits, so full of importance to them that day, he could see
the settlement of Thursday--count the houses and even distinguish people
walking upon the sea-front. The peaceful beauty of the evening soothed
his soul like sweetest music. He was happier than he had been for
months, nay, years past. It seemed to him that he was in a new world--a
world as far removed from that of the morning as is heaven from hell. He
almost found it difficult to believe that he, the well-dressed, well-fed
man, leaning against the doorpost, was the same being who only that
morning had contemplated suicide on the pier-head over yonder, in that
abject and black despair engendered of starvation. With this feeling of
wonderment still upon him he turned his head in the direction of the
station house--a lamp was just lighted in the sitting room, and by
moving a step further to the left he could discern the loosely rolled
brown hair of a woman's head. Almost unconsciously he sighed. It was a
long time since any woman had manifested so much interest in him. Had he
got past the desire to be worthy of it? No, he hoped not! He had told
himself repeatedly since midday this was certainly his last chance, and
come what might, having obtained it, he would make a struggle to win
back the respect he had begun to believe he had lost forever.
The evening drew on. The night wind rose and played through the palm
fronds above the hut, rubbing against the thatch with soothing sweep.
Murkard was lying on his bed inside, smoking. Esther had brought her
work on to the veranda, but had discarded it when the light failed, and
now sat looking out across the sea. Ellison made no attempt to speak to
her, and she gave no sign to show that she saw him. Some time afterward
he heard Murkard put down his pipe, and come out to stand beside him.
"A beautiful night. Look at that last gleam of crimson low down upon the
horizon. What are you thinking of, old man?"
Ellison did not make any reply for a minute, and then he said quietly:
"Of a night like this eight years ago! That's all."
"You ought not to have let her tell you."
"I couldn't help myself. It was done before I knew it. And then I had
her guilty secret to keep as well as my own. Bah! what a fool I was. But
what am I saying! How did you come to know anything of her?"
"Another of my guesses, that's all."
"Murkard, there's something devilish uncanny about you."
"Because you don't understand me, eh? No, no; don't be afraid, old man,
you will never have cause to fear me. I owe you too much ever to prove
myself ungrateful. Bear with my crotchets--for as surely as I stand
before you now, the day will come when you will regret any harsh word
you have ever spoken to me. My destiny is before me written in letters
of fire--I cannot escape it, and God knows I would not if I could."
"What on earth do you mean?"
"Don't ask me, or try to find out. When I saw your face for the first
time that wet night on the wharf in Sydney, I knew you to be the man for
whom I was sent into the world. There is a year of grace before us, let
us enjoy it--then--well _then I shall do my duty_."
Ellison put his hand on the small man's deformed shoulder.
"Silas, I don't grasp what you're driving at!"
"Then, as I say, don't seek to know. Believe that I'm a dreamer. Believe
that I'm a little mad. I shall never speak of it to you again. But
to-night I felt as if I must speak out--the hand of the Future was upon
me. Good-night!"
"Good-night!"
As Murkard went in the woman rose from her chair, advanced to the
veranda rails, and once more stood looking out across the bay. A clock
in the Kanakas' hut struck ten. Then she too turned to go in. But before
doing so she looked across at Ellison, and said kindly, "Good-night!"
"Good-night!" he called in return.
And all the silence of the world seemed to echo that "Good-night!"