“You’re only a romantic child. I’ve made you ill through my love-making. You don’t understand. Some day, when you are a woman, you’ll know how a fellow must feel, how he can really love such a one as you. Forgive me, Gabrielle, will you?”
The girl gently took hold of his hand and, looking steadily into his eyes, said: “Perhaps you are only a boy and it’s you who do not understand. You are too good a fellow for me. Don’t you believe it; you’ve not made me ill. It’s something that I don’t quite understand.”
“But why be ill at all?” was Hillary’s brief summing up after she had rattled this off. But still she ran on: “You’d never believe what happened the other night. I went mad, I think.”
“Good Lord! You must not encourage such ideas. You’ve been dwelling with your own thoughts too much.”
“I’m not mad, though you may think I am. I could easily prove to you that I’m haunted; you don’t know the horrible things that happen to people of the Papuan race. I’m afraid that even you would turn against me if you knew of my terrible heritage.”
“Terrible heritage!” gasped the apprentice, as he leaned over the side and hardly knew what he was saying or doing as he followed Gabrielle’s stare as she too leaned over and looked down into the deep, silent waters. “Is she mad? Perhaps she is.” Then he thrust the thought from his mind. “Phew! Rubbish! She’s beautifully eccentric; if anyone’s mad it’s me!”
“Gabrielle, your father’s continual bullying has made you ill—and a bit neurotic. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” For a moment he was silent; the father had given him the pluck and the opportunity to say what he longed to say. “Gabrielle, why put up with a father’s bullying? Let’s both clear out of Bougainville; come with me! We can go away to Honolulu. I’ll swear that I’ll look after you well, never say one word that you may not wish me to say. I can easily make money by my violin playing.”
Having blurted out the foregoing, Hillary almost trembled as he waited to see the impression his outburst had made on the girl. He watched Gabrielle’s eyes. “I’ve gone too far again. How rash I am!” was his miserable reflection as she nearly swooned into his arms.
“I’ll go anywhere in the wide world with you, Hillary,” she said, to his unbounded delight and astonishment.
“Will you!” His eyes shone, his voice was almost shrill, like a happy schoolboy’s over the possibilities of some childish scheme.