“Yes.”
“And in New York. They will not be looking for you now, and if they were they would not find you—the Pacific is wide, the islands are many. Ah, well, many a man has done worse, but I am glad you told me. I believe in you and I trust you. You shall marry Kineia. For the last year the thing has been growing in my mind. I have said to myself: ‘Your end is approaching, and here is a man who will take care of Kineia if he only learns to love her and if he proves worthy of her.’ That is what I have said. And I have said to myself: ‘You will make a will and every sou you possess they shall possess—schooner and all.’ I made that will last night. It was attested by Ramura and Tonga. It is in my bureau. Had this interview not been satisfactory, I would have torn it up and I would have said to you: ‘Lygon, my friend, take half I possess, if you will, but leave this island.’ There remains only one thing. You love Kineia, does she love you?”
“She does,” said Lygon.
The Haliotis was due to call in a week’s time, and when she put into the lagoon Captain Morris found some business awaiting him other than discharging cargo. He was called upon to officiate at the marriage of Lygon and Kineia.
A month later Jourdain, who had prophesied his own end, died. He died of no special disease. He had lived long enough and he wanted to rejoin Nalia and his mind was at ease about Kineia. His business in life was over. He lost clutch of things—and retired.
Had he not been happy and sure about Kineia’s future, he might have gone on a for a considerable time just for her sake.
III.
One day, a year after his marriage, Lygon found himself alone out on the reef. He had paddled over in a canoe and, leaving her tied up, had taken his seat on a lump of coral. Pipe in mouth, he was watching the breakers coming in, great green rollers filled with the movement of life and the perfume of the heart of the sea.
In contrast with the quiet island beach here, there was uproarious life. The coral shook with the thunder of the breakers and the gulls cried and the wind blew, bringing the spindrift of the ocean, and mixing the voice of the undertow with the bourdon note of the waves.
Lygon who had landed on the island a penniless outcast was to-day rich. Jourdain’s invested money came to nearly ten thousand pounds. There was, besides that, the schooner, the pitch, and a going business. He had for wife one of the most beautiful women in the world, and the island was a paradise.