"So I suppose," he said, significantly—or at least his tone and look seemed fraught with significance to me.
"We were talking of you only a few minutes ago, Dr. Martin," she continued; "I was telling Tardif how you sang the 'Three Fishers' to me the last time you were here, and how it rings in my ears still, especially when he is away fishing. I repeated the three last lines to him:
'For men must work, and women must weep;
And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep.
So good-by to the bar, with its moaning.'"
"I do not like it, doctor," said Tardif: "there's no hope in it. Yet to sleep out yonder at last, on the great plain under the sea, would be no bad thing."
"You must sing it for Tardif," added Olivia, with a pretty imperiousness, "and then he will like it."
My throat felt dry, and my tongue parched. I could not utter a word in reply.
"This would be the very place for such a song," said Captain Carey. "Come, Martin, let us have it."
"No; I can sing nothing to-day," I answered, harshly.