The old trader puffed at his pipe for a minute or two ere he answered—
“Did you notice that girl at all?” and he inclined his head towards the door of the sitting-room.
The young man nodded.
Then the candid Baldwin told him her history. “I can't defend my own position. I am no better than most traders—you see it is the custom here, neither is she worse than any of these half-blooded Paumotuans. If I married a native of this particular island I would only bring trouble on my head. I could not show any preference for any particular girl for a wife without raising the bitterest quarrels among some of the leading chiefs here. You see, as a matter of fact, I should have married as soon as I came here, twenty years ago; then the trouble would have been over. But I didn't. I can see my mistake now, for I am getting old pretty fast;... and now that the missionaries are here, and I do a lot of business with them, I think us white men ought to show them some kind of respect by getting married—properly married—to our wives.”
Brice laughed. “You mean, Baldwin, they should get married according to the rites of the Roman Catholic Church?”
“Aye,” the old trader assented. “Now, there's Loisé, there—a clever, intelligent, well-educated girl, and as far as money or trade goes, as honest as the day. Can I, an old white-headed fool of sixty, go to Australia and ask any good woman to marry me, and come and live down here? No.”
He smoked in silence awhile, and then resumed.
“Yes; honest and trustworthy she is, I believe; although the white blood in her veins is no recommendation. If ever you should live in the islands, my lad—which isn't likely—take an old fool's advice and never marry a half-caste, either in native fashion or in a church with a brass band and a bishop as leading features of the show.”
Loisé came to them. “Will you take coffee, Tâmu?” she asked, standing before them with folded hands.