over the
gunwale so as to bring her own face close to her daughter's.

"There will be other women," she repeated firmly; "I tell you that,
because you are half white, and may forget that he is a great chief, and
that such things must be. Hide your anger, and do not let him see on
your face the pain that will eat your heart. Meet him with joy in your
eyes and wisdom on your lips, for to you he will turn in sadness or in
doubt. As long as he looks upon many women your power will last, but
should there be one, one only with whom he seems to forget you, then--"

"I could not live," exclaimed Nina, covering her face with both her
hands. "Do not speak so, mother; it could not be."

"Then," went on Mrs. Almayer, steadily, "to that woman, Nina, show no
mercy."

She moved the canoe down towards the stream by the gunwale, and gripped
it with both her hands, the bow pointing into the river.

"Are you crying?" she asked sternly of her daughter, who sat still with
covered face. "Arise, and take your paddle, for he has waited long
enough. And remember, Nina, no mercy; and if you must strike, strike
with a steady hand."

She put out all her strength, and swinging her body over the water, shot
the light craft far into the stream. When she recovered herself from the
effort she tried vainly to catch a glimpse of the canoe that seemed to
have dissolved suddenly into the white mist trailing over the heated
waters of the Pantai. After listening for a while intently on her knees,
Mrs. Almayer rose with a deep sigh, while two tears wandered slowly down
her withered cheeks. She wiped them off quickly with a wisp of her grey
hair as if ashamed of herself, but could not stifle another loud sigh,
for her heart was heavy and she suffered much, being unused to tender
emotions. This time she fancied she had heard a faint noise, like the
echo of her own sigh, and she stopped, straining her ears to catch the
slightest sound, and peering apprehensively towards the bushes near her.

"Who is there?" she asked, in an unsteady voice, while her imagination
peopled the solitude of the riverside with ghost-like forms. "Who is
there?" she repeated faintly.

There was no answer: only the voice of the river murmuring in sad
monotone behind the white veil seemed to swell louder for a moment, to
die away again in a soft whisper of eddies washing against the bank.

Mrs. Almayer shook her head as if in answer to her own thoughts, and
walked quic