“God bless you for that,” whispered Hester earnestly.
“Now, go back,” he said quietly; “there must be no scene here. You need not be afraid for me; I shall incur no risks now, in the hope that, as you say, you can make all clear between us. You will explain all—everything to me when I come up.”
With a wild look of delight she was about to say yes, when she quailed and shrank away, for at a little distance behind Dutch she saw Lauré apparently busy arranging the rope there around the deck, but evidently hearing all that was said.
“You promise?” said Dutch sternly.
“Spare me, oh, my darling,” she moaned. “I dare not—oh I dare not speak.”
“What,” he whispered, “is this your truth?”
“It is for your sake,” she moaned, “for your sake,” and with drooping head she crept away.
“Come, come, little woman,” said Mr Parkley, taking her hand; “be firm, be firm; he shall not come to harm.”
“Not he, mum, while old Tom Rasp is alive to help,” growled the old fellow.
“Perhaps you’d better go below, my dear,” said Mr Parkley.