and then turned to
Niabon.
"'Tis a mad idea," I said, trying to speak angrily, and failing
lamentably. "'Tis you alone, Niabon, who hath made her ask me to do
this."
"That is not true, Simi," she replied quietly, "Yet when I spoke to her
of our voyage, her heart's wishes came to her lips, and I knew that she
would ask to come with thee, even as I know that thou wilt not leave her
here to die."
I could make no answer for the time. What was coming over me, that
I could listen to such a suggestion with patience? What a strange
influence did this girl Niabon possess that I, a sensible man, felt she
could and would make me yield to her wishes, and let a sickly, delicate
woman like Mrs. Krause accompany me on a voyage that presented nothing
but danger. The fever must have weakened my brain, I thought.
But then, on the other hand, Mrs. Krause was a free agent. She had no
children. Her husband had just been killed. I, the only other white man
on the island to whom she could look to for social intercourse at long
intervals, was leaving the island. Her mind had been tortured, and her
life made miserable by her brute of a husband. Could I, as a _man_,
leave her among a community of naked savages to fret out her life? She
wished to come with me. Well, I should tell her of the dangers--aye,
and the horrors--of such a voyage as I was bent upon. I should conceal
nothing from her--nothing, absolutely nothing. I should tell her of how
the wife of the captain of the ship _Octavia_, from Sydney to Singapore,
had seen her husband die, and the famishing crew of the boat which
had left the burnt ship, drag his body from her with savage curses and
threats, and----
"Simi."
"What is it, Niabon? What would you have me do? Why do you tempt me
to let this poor, weak lady accompany me on a voyage, which will, most
likely, end in death to us all?"
"There will be danger, but no death," she replied dreamily, turning her
face away from me towards the sea, and slowly extending her arms; "and
thou, Simi--thou shalt gain thy heart's desire. For I have seen it all,
even as I see it now."
"My heart's desire! Tell me what is my heart's desire?"
I stepped up to her and placed my hand gently on her head, and, bending
down, saw that her eyes were closed.
"My heart's desire, Niabon? tell me what is my heart's desire," I said
again, and as I spoke I caught my breath, and tried hard to steady
myself.
"Fame, Fame! The praise of men for a
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