After seeing the priest and old Lydia I went to fulfil an engagement, at a high-toned job, to appear at a great social gathering as violinist at the Bishop of —— residence. But when I was about half-a-mile from Tai-o-hae I made up my mind to let the concert go and hang itself as far as I was concerned. I was feeling too sad about everything, as I walked along with my violin.
No pages of romance could outvie what I experienced that night in the silence of that tropical loneliness of heathen-land. It must have been Fate which drew my footsteps to the solitude by the mountains near Tai-o-hae, for I met not only Waylao, but another victim of life’s drama.
I was passing down the track that ran beside the mountains, a lonely spot, from where one could see the distant ocean twinkling in the moonlight and the moth-grey sails of the outbound schooners fading out to sea. Not far from where I stood was a chasm where the giant bread-fruits still sheltered the ancient ruins of the heathen temple Marea, a solemn reminder of the great old days. As I stood there alone, drinking in the atmosphere of far-off years, a figure suddenly emerged from a thicket of bamboos.
For a moment I could hardly believe my eyes. I had inquired and searched at every likely place to find that sad fugitive, and lo! there stood Waylao.
I will not dwell on all that happened, the girl’s despair and my own feelings as I grasped the clammy hand of that sad enigma, that homeless girl of mystery, passion and romance.
I led her into the shadows of the forest, and she cried bitterly as I gave the sympathy she needed so much.
It seems like a dream in the recalling, the memory of that trembling form, the wild look of terror in her eyes as at last she realised the true character of the man whom she had worshipped. She did not divulge the name of her betrayer, nor was it my wish to seek the information. It was all beyond recall. One thing was very obvious to me—that she had been to her betrayer for protection and found that he had flown directly he had heard of her plight. I tried my best to persuade the misguided girl to return home.
“Waylao,” I said, “I have seen your mother and she has begged me to try and find you.” But it seemed that either she was half demented or that her fear of Benbow and her mother made her prefer to roam homeless rather than consent.
“I do not want to live, or if I must live, I do not wish to see those I have disgraced again,” she murmured between her tears.
I took her hand and tried by the softest words to reassure the girl, but it seemed hopeless. Indeed it was only when my persuasion brought a terrified look into her eyes, and she was on the point of taking to flight, that I led her away into the forest.