“What is it affects you so in the news I bring?” I asked.
“My mother,” she replied; “is she still living? Do you think we can find her? Oh! tell me the story of your adventures again; perhaps there was something my father left out.”
She seated herself sideways on the hammock, while I resumed my wicker chair, and told again the story which I had narrated to her father the night before.
When I had finished, she said, “May Heaven reward you for all you went through.”
“I am rewarded already,” I replied.
“You mean that Heaven has rewarded you in advance by giving you a disposition that gets its happiness from making other people happy.”
I was ashamed of my poor attempt at a compliment and said, “Yes, that is what I meant”—though it was nothing of the kind—“only I am not clever at expressing myself.”
“Do you think that last shot of yours killed Ngaraki?” she asked, with a gentle concern in her voice, for I had told her more about the chief than I had to Grey the previous evening.
“I hope not,” I replied; “he was a noble fellow, and had a fine hatred of the Vile Tohungas, because, as he said, they were the Destroyers of Women.”
A slight change of expression passed over her face, and with a quick intuition she said: