This evening was like the
last--like all the evenings before.
"Is all this I have heard possible?" she asked herself. "No--but it is
true."
She sat down in a deck chair to think and found she could only remember.
She jumped up. She was sure somebody was hailing the yacht faintly. Was
that man hailing? She listened, and hearing nothing was annoyed with
herself for being haunted by a voice.
"He said he could trust me. Now, what is this danger? What is danger?"
she meditated.
Footsteps were coming from forward. The figure of the watchman flitted
vaguely over the gangway. He was whistling softly and vanished. Hollow
sounds in the boat were succeeded by a splash of oars. The night
swallowed these slight noises. Mrs. Travers sat down again and found
herself much calmer.
She had the faculty of being able to think her own thoughts--and the
courage. She could take no action of any kind till her husband's return.
Lingard's warnings were not what had impressed her most. This man had
presented his innermost self unclothed by any subterfuge. There were
in plain sight his desires, his perplexities, affections, doubts, his
violence, his folly; and the existence they made up was lawless but not
vile. She had too much elevation of mind to look upon him from any other
but a strictly human standpoint.
Pages:
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200