But this was not in the least to her taste. She was not prepared to let any one else pry into her private concerns.
"Oh, Captain Boulger," she began, throwing all the sweetness she could muster into her voice and looks, "it's inhuman to think that I can remain away from him; you cannot expect it; let me help you with him. I'll be as patient and quick as possible, and I've had some experience in nursing—I really have."
"No, no, ma'am, I'd like to, but I can't allow it," Boulger replied, "it wouldn't be fair to ask me. What this devilish disease may be is more than I can tell, but as it's certain there's infection in it, I can't let any risks be run. Now, do go; you're only hindering me, and I must be looking after him, poor chap; he wants all the attention I can give him."
After this there was nothing for her but to submit, and I must do her the justice to admit that she did it with as good grace as possible.
In the security of her cabin a vague terror seized her. What if Veneda should die, and the locket be cast into the sea with him? The thought almost took her breath away. Come what might, she must have a few moments alone with the sick man, or, in the event of his death, with his body.
True to his word, at regular intervals, hour after hour, the skipper presented himself at her door with the latest bulletins of his patient's condition. "Just a leetle better"—"Just so so"—"Not much change"—"Seems a bit weaker"—"Another awful attack," was the order in which they ran. On hearing the last she broke down completely, and for some reason which I am unable to explain, fell to sobbing as if her heart would break.
Suddenly a strange craving came over her, and rising from her bunk she procured and propped her crucifix against the tiny wash-hand basin, and kneeling on the sloping floor before it, endeavoured to frame a prayer for the passing of the man's soul. Her long black hair hung in glorious profusion about her shoulders; tears streamed down her pallid cheeks; and her lips continually faltered over the words she tried to utter. When she had finished, her spirits recovered, and crawling back into her bed, she fell asleep.
It was long after daybreak before she awoke. The sun was shining brightly through the porthole above her bunk, and from the angle at which the schooner was lying, she knew a fresh breeze must be blowing.
Urged by a great anxiety to learn the latest news of Veneda's state, she dressed with all the haste she could command, and passed into the cuddy. As she entered it, the captain emerged from the berth opposite and greeted her with a mournful face. She divined the worst.
"You're going to tell me that he is dead," she said, clutching at the table.