I saw the drift of her sneer, and was angry and silent.
“He has a very charming daughter,” she went on.
The humiliation that she was thrusting upon me was unbearable, but I could be patient, since I carried the lives of the colony in my hands; yet it was not pleasant to see this side of Lentala’s nature. The worst of it was that there was no possible argument to bring against hers. Mr. Vancouver richly deserved such a fate, and so did Rawley; their meeting it would certainly assure our escape to the Hope. But Lentala could see in my attitude nothing but consideration for Annabel, and she misconstrued that. It was all that I could do to restrain myself.
“I think we understand each other,” she remarked after a pause.
“Do you mean,” I burst out in a passion, “that you are going to order the sacrifice of Mr. Vancouver and Rawley?”
She looked at me steadily. Afterward I recalled the softening, the suffering, the dumb pleading in her face, but I did not see it at the time.
“It doesn’t appear,” she quietly said, “that I am called on to tell you any more of my plans at present. You are fully informed as to what you may do in trying to get the colony to the ship tonight.” Her manner was entirely that of a queen to her subject. “I think you understand to some extent what I have done to spare the lives of your people and help them leave the island. I will add that some trusted natives will try to make your passage to the ship safe. But it is one thing to make plans and another to carry them out in the face of a panic. There is no foreseeing what may happen before morning. My scouts will keep me informed every few minutes.”
There came an awkward pause. Her head was down; she stood in a waiting attitude. It seemed to me that all the world I loved had suddenly been swept away. Behind the woman confronting me I knew that my dear Beela stood sweet and laughing, all sunshine and dear womanliness. Only a fool would let her go.
“Beela!” I said.
She started, and raised sorrowing eyes to mine.