. He walked her home. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. One hour later she had gone back to the mission—without the salt. ‘But this Englishwoman,’ asked the man Valade, his puzzlement plain to see, ‘who was she?’ The question irritated Charvill. . "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word. 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. ’ ‘But it’s my affair, Melusine. ’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously.
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