“Come!” I cried. “They will take us aboard!”
But my brother shook his head. “No Edward,” he replied, “I cannot do that.”
I started. “No,” he said again, “do not ask me. You go—but let me stay here until the end!”
“What can you mean?” I cried. “Can you really suppose that I would leave you?”
“I am not fitted to travel,” he said—“I do not wish to change. And I could not face the thing which you call civilisation. It has no interest for me.”
“But we can live in the country,” I cried. “I have money—nothing need trouble you!” But all my arguments made no impression upon him; he would only repeat that he desired to be left alone. I tried to move him by saying that I would not leave him. I might stay if I chose, he said—he could not help that; but if I were wise, I would leave him to his own life; and I would not subject him to the pain of meeting the strangers upon the ship. They would not understand, and they would only cause him vexation. And even while I was protesting with him, we heard the shouts of men upon the shore. He rose up and laid his hand upon my shoulder, and kissed me upon the forehead, saying: “Be wise—or let me be wise for you. Respect my judgment and let me go.”
And so he turned and started away toward the centre of the island. At the edge of the thicket he turned and waved his hand to me. I never saw him again.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
- Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling.
- Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.