“With Nambuto,” she said, falteringly.
“Say on.”
The story was short. On the day he had left there had been a great meeting, and Raluve had been admonished before all the chiefs. Nambuto had spoken kindly to her, and day after day they had waited till she should make up her mind. Then gradually the old feeling of her race must have gained upon her, and the memory of the dream that had passed waxed fainter. Her people would take her back, and her lover had deserted her, and as for death by her own hand—it was most terrible.
“But why do you say she has gone with Nambuto?” asked Vere, fiercely. “They are not married? Speak plainly all that you know.”
“They are not yet married, but this I know, that they sailed in Nambuto’s canoe this morning, and before they sailed Raluve’s tombe[2] was cut off.”
FOOTNOTE:
[2] The tombe is a long lock of hair worn by Fijian girls until they marry, as a sign of maidenhood, the rest of the hair being short.