“Truly it must,” remarked Pauline, “else you could not have fallen asleep in the very middle of my glowing description of our island home.”
“Did I really do that?” said the doctor, with an air of self-reproach.
“Indeed you did; but in the circumstances you are to be excused.”
“And I hope,” added Dominick, “that you’ll have many a good sleep in our golden cave.”
“Golden cave, indeed,” echoed the invalid, in thought, for his mind was too much taken up just then with Pauline to find vent in speech. “A golden cave it will be to me for evermore!”
It is of no use mincing the matter; Dr John Marsh, after being regarded by his friends at home as hopelessly unimpressible—in short, an absolute woman-hater—had found his fate on a desolate isle of the Southern seas, he had fallen—nay, let us be just—had jumped over head and ears in love with Pauline Rigonda! Dr Marsh was no sentimental die-away noodle who, half-ashamed, half-proud of his condition, displays it to the semi-contemptuous world. No; after disbelieving for many years in the power of woman to subdue him, he suddenly and manfully gave in—sprang up high into the air, spiritually, and so to speak, turning a sharp somersault, went headlong down deep into the flood, without the slightest intention of ever again returning to the surface.
But of this mighty upheaval and overturning of his sentiments he betrayed no symptom whatever, excepting two bright spots—one on either cheek—which might easily have been mistaken for the effects of weakness, or recent excitement, or bad health, or returning hunger. Calmly he set to work on the viands before him with unusual appetite, conversing earnestly, meanwhile, with Dominick and Otto on the gravity of their situation, and bestowing no more attention upon Pauline than was barely consistent with good breeding, insomuch that that pretty young creature began to feel somewhat aggrieved. Considering all the care she had so recently bestowed on him, she came to the conclusion, in short, that he was by no means as polite as at first she had supposed him to be.
By degrees the conversation about the present began to give place to discussions as to the future, and when Dominick and Otto returned for their evening meal at sunset, bringing with them Mr Malines, the mate, and Joe Binney and his brother David and Hugh Morris as being representative men of the emigrants and ship’s crew, the meeting resolved itself into a regular debating society. At this point Pauline deserted them and went down to the camp to cultivate the acquaintance of the widow Lynch, Mrs Welsh, and the other female and infantine members of the wrecked party.
“For my part,” said Malines, “I shall take one o’ the boats, launch it in the lagoon, and go over to the big island, follow me who may, for it is clear that there’s not room for us all on this strip of sand.”
“I don’t see that,” objected Hugh Morris. “Seems to me as there’s space enough for all of us, if we’re not too greedy.”