"It is no use talking." Then suddenly facing round on Eleanor she said,
"What are you going to do for servants in that dreadful place?"
"Mr. Rhys says he has a most faithful servant—who is much attached to him, and does as well as he can desire."
"One of those native savages?"
"He was; he is a Christian now, and a good one."
Mrs. Powle looked as if she did not know how to believe her daughter.
"Aren't you afraid of what you are about, Eleanor—to venture among those creatures? and to take all that voyage first, alone? Are you not afraid?"
There was that in the very simpleness and quietness of Eleanor's answer that put her negative beyond a question. Mrs. Powle sat down again for very bewilderment.
"Why are you not afraid?" she said. "You never were afraid of little things, I know; but those houses—Are there no thieves among those heathen?"
"A good many."
"What is to keep them out of your house? Anybody could cut through a reed wall with a knife—and make no noise about it. Where is your security?"