"Yes," he replied; and then suddenly: "Doris, I am going to look for her; I think I know the place to which she has gone. It is not far from here. Doris, will you go on back to Vahitahi with Latham and wait for me?"
"Fred," she whispered, "let me come with you. It will not be long, dear, before I am gone, and it was hard to die away from you—that is why I came; and perhaps we may find her."
He kissed her silently, and then in five minutes more they had said farewell to Latham, and were on their way to the schooner.
The crew soon knew from him what had happened, and Rua Manu, with his big eyes filled with a wondering pity as he looked at the frail body and white face of Doris lying on the skylight, wore the schooner's head round to the south-west at a sign from Brantley.
"Aye, Paranili," he said, in his deep, guttural tones, "it is to Tatakoto she hath gone—'tis her mother's land."
That night, as she lay on the skylight with her hand in his, Doris told him all she knew:—
"They were all kind to me when I went ashore to your house, Fred, but Luita looked so fiercely at me.... Her eyes frightened me—they had a look of death in them.
"In the morning your little child was taken ill with what they call TATARU, and I wanted to give it medicine. Luita pushed my hand away and hugged the child to her bosom; and then the other women came and made signs for me to go away. And that night she and the child were missing, and one of your boats was gone."
"Poor Luita," said Brantley, stroking Doris's pale cheek, "she did not know you were my sister. I never told her, Doris."