"My father was a British consul in the
Islands."
"You have not come from the Islands now, I suppose?"
"No," she said a little more softly; "it is years since I was in Samoa.
. . . My father is buried there."
"You must have found it a romantic life in those half-barbaric places?"
She shifted in her chair. "Romantic!" Her tone conveyed a very slight
uneasiness and vagueness. "I am afraid you must ask some one else about
that sort of thing. I did not see much romance, but I saw plenty that was
half-barbaric." Here she laughed slightly.
Just then I saw the lights of a vessel far off. "See--a vessel!" I said;
and I watched the lights in silence, but thinking. I saw that she too was
watching idly.
At length, as if continuing the conversation, I said: "Yes, I suppose
life must be somewhat adventurous and dangerous among savage people like
the Samoans, Tongans, and Fijians?"
"Indeed, then," she replied decisively, "you are not to suppose anything
of the kind. The danger is not alone for the white people."
At this I appeared, as I really was, interested, and begged her to
explain what she meant.
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