"The old gentleman has had a paralytic seizure; but it's not him I had in my mind." Then he hesitated.
"Go on, man, what is it?"
"The girl is married—married Colonel Maclean about two months ago."
Barry's face paled under its bronze, but he said nothing for a few moments. Then he motioned his friend to a seat.
"Sit down, Watson," he said quietly; "it is bad news for me, and news I never dreamt of hearing. Tell me all about it. Steward, bring us something to drink."
The red-faced old mate looked at him with a certain admiring sympathy, then he laid his hand on his shoulder.
"You're one of the right sort. Now I'll tell you the yarn, but first of all she gave me a letter for you. Here it is."
The captain of the Mahina took it from him, opened it, and read it with an unmoved countenance. Then without a word of comment he passed it over to Watson; it contained but a few lines:—
"DEAR TED,—Try to forgive me. Perhaps in after years I will try to forgive myself. I could not bear to see my father suffer. Weak and unstable as water as I am in some things, my duty and affection for him conquered my love for you.—ROSE."
Lighting a cigar, he leant back in his chair and listened to Watson's story. When it was finished he got up and held out his hand.