“John,” she said, “I can spare you that question. Perhaps
Sir John is going to take the other one under his wing. 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. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch
Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she
attributes all her misery. Yet even now there
were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that
seems wound around me. The amazing tonic of the thought!
From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 07-07-2024 00:40:42