“I don't know,” he said. “It's so hard to remember! It is something like this! I seem to have lived for such a long time, and when I look back I can remember things that happened a very long time ago, but then there seems a gap, and everything is all misty, and it makes my head ache dreadfully to try and remember,” he moaned.
“Then don't try,” she said kindly. “I'll read to you for a little time if you like, and you shall sit quite quiet.”
He seemed not to have heard her. He continued presently—
“Once before I died, it was all I wanted. Just to have heard her speak, to have seen my little girl grown into a woman, and the sea was always there, and Oom Sam would always come with that cursed rum. Then one day came Trent and talked of money and spoke of England, and when he went away it rang for ever in my ears, and at night I heard her calling for me across the sea. So I stole out, and the great steamer was lying there with red fires at her funnel, and I was mad. She was crying for me across the sea, so I took the money!”
She patted his hand gently. There was a lump in her throat, and her eyes were wet.
“Was it your daughter you wanted so much to see?” she asked softly.
“My daughter! My little girl,” he answered! “And I heard her calling to me with her mother's voice across the sea. So I took the money.”
“No one would blame you very much for that, I am sure,” she said cheerfully. “You are frightening yourself needlessly. I will speak to Father, and he shall help you.”
He held up his hand.
“He is hiding me,” he whispered. “It is through him I knew that they were after me. I don't mind for myself, but she might get to know, and I have brought disgrace enough upon her. Listen!”