“Nay; but the shell spoke the truth,” said Vere, laughing.
But the girl had become serious.
“It is a heathen game, and we ought not to have done it, therefore it lied. And if you doubt that it lied, I will take a Bible to-morrow, and swear that I will never leave you. Then if I swear falsely, I shall die as Ana did, when she swore she did not burn down Finau’s house. But you will leave me, and it is right; for you are my chief, and I am a black woman, and I could not bear that you should be despised by your people because of me. What is she like, Kalokalo?”
“Who?”
“The woman you will marry. She must be a great lady like the Governor’s wife, not like the maramas of Levuka, who are angry, and have harsh voices. I hate them: but you would never take one of them?”
“And what would you do if I married, Raluve?”
“I would be your wife’s servant if she would let me; but if you left me for one of my own people——” She caught her breath, and half-started up. He thought she was excited by her own speech, but her face was set, and her body tense. She was listening. “Somebody is coming,” she whispered. Vere strained his ears, but could hear nothing but the faint hiss of the sand as the tiny waves sucked it back.
“I hear nothing,” he said.
She put her hand on his mouth, and rose upon her knees, looking seawards. After some seconds she stooped.