"I surmise, as our American girl said at Honolulu," replied Miss Vavasour, "that you might look a long time before you saw such a man among our 'Johnnies'; and what eyes and teeth he has! Really I feel inclined to rebel. Here's this Mr. Telfer, too, and what a grand-looking fellow he is, and an English gentleman besides in all his ways. He can make his way to this out of the way speck in the ocean, and secure a Miranda for a life companion—glorious girl she is too—while we poor English spins have to wait till a passable pretendu comes along,—old, bald, stupid, or diminutive, as the case may be,—and are bound to take him under penalty of dying old maids. I call it rank injustice, and I'd head a revolution tomorrow; and oh!—"
The interjection which closed the speech of this ardent woman's righter was caused by the onward course of a breaking wave, which was not avoided so deftly as usual, and splashed the speaker and Mrs. Craven.
"Hulloa! Quintal, what are you about?" said the captain, "is this your steering that I've been blowing about to these ladies and gentlemen? Miss Vavasour! I'm afraid it's your fault, you know the rule aboard ship? Passengers are requested not to speak to the man at the wheel."
"But there's no regulation, captain, that the man at the steer-oar is not to look at the passengers," said Mrs. Craven. "However, here we are nearly on board, so there's no harm done, and we're only a trifle damped."
Clear-hued—calm—waveless—dawned our farewell day. I was glad of it. Rain and storm-clouds lower the spirits more distinctly when one is about to make a departure than at any other time, besides the inconvenience of wet or bedraggled garments. It was the Sabbath day, and the pastor arranged a special service in commemoration of Miranda's marriage and departure from the island. All the ship's company that could be spared came, of course; the visitors made a point of attending. The little church was crowded. Except the youngest children and their guardians, every soul on the island was there.
After the Church of England service, which the islanders had at their fingers' ends, and in which they all most reverently joined, hymns were sung, in which the rich voices of the young girls were heard to great advantage. There was a strange and subtle harmony pervading the part-singing, which seemed natural to the race, more particularly in those parts in which the whole of the congregation joined. As Miranda played on the harmonium, it may have occurred to her friends and playmates for the last time, many of them could not restrain their tears. The aged pastor after the Liturgy preached a feeling and sympathetic address, which certainly went to the hearts of all present. He made particular allusion to our union and departure.
"One of the children of the island," he said, "who had endeared herself to all by her unselfish kindness of heart, who had been marked out by uncommon gifts, both mental and physical, was to leave them that day. She might be absent for years, perhaps they might not see her face again,—that face upon which no one had seen a frown, nor hear that voice which had never uttered an unkind word," here the greater part of the congregation, male and female, fell a-weeping and lamenting loudly. "But they must take comfort; our beloved one was not departing alone, she had been joined in holy matrimony with a youth of whom any damsel might feel proud; he was the husband of her choice, the son of a master mariner well known and highly respected in former years throughout the wide Pacific. He himself had often heard of him in old days, and the son of such a father was worthy to be loved and trusted. The child of our hearts would go forth, even as Rebecca left her home and her people with Isaac, and God's blessing would surely rest upon all her descendants as upon the children of the promise.
"He would ask all now assembled to join in prayers for the welfare of Hilary Telfer and Miranda, his wife."
As the venerable man pronounced the words of the benediction, echoed audibly by the whole of the congregation, the sobs of the women were audible, while tears and stifled sighs were the rule, and not the exception. As the congregation rose from their knees, he walked down to the Florentia's boats, it having been so arranged by the captain, who had invited all who could by any means attend, to lunch on board his vessel. Farewells were said on the beach to all who were perforce detained by age, infirmity, or other causes, and at length we were safely seated in the captain's boat, and putting off, were followed by a perfect fleet of every size and carrying capacity.