“You do not think, sir, you cannot surely think that anybody on this island is in danger from the enemy. There is nothing to bring them here,—no arms, nor wealth of any kind;—nothing that it would be worth the trouble of coming to take.”
“Oh no: you are all safe enough. No enemy would lose their time here. But that is no reason why you should give them help and comfort with your beacon-light.”
“You mean, sir, that if a storm drives them hither, or they lose their way, you would have them perish. Yes; that is what you mean, and that I cannot do. I must burn my lamp.”
“But my good friend, consider what you are doing. Consider the responsibility if you should succour the king’s enemies!”
“I did consider it well, sir, some years ago, and made up my mind. That was when the pirates were on the coast.”
“You don’t mean that you would have lighted pirates to shore?”
“I could not refuse to save them from drowning: and He who set me my duty blessed the deed.”
“I remember hearing something of that. But if the pirates did no mischief, your neighbours owe you nothing for that. You may thank the poverty of the island.”
“Perhaps so,” said Annie, smiling. “And if so, I am sure we may thank God for the poverty of the island which permits us to save men’s lives, instead of letting them drown. And now you see, sir—”
“I see you are as wilful on this point as I heard you were. I would not believe it, because I always thought you a superior woman. But now—I wish I could persuade you to see your duty better, Mrs Fleming.”