But, believe me, it is no question of wrong at all, by any
one--now. The wrong is over. It is simply that a debt of honour must be
satisfied; it concerns my poor dead brother."
"Are you going to relatives in France?" I asked.
"No; I have no relatives, no near friends. I am alone in the world. My
mother I cannot remember; she died when I was very young. My father had
riches, but they went before he died. Still, France is home, and I must
go there." She turned her head away to the long wastes of sea.
Little more passed between us. I advised her to come often on deck, and
mingle with the passengers; and told her that, when she pleased, I should
be glad to do any service that lay in my power. Her last words were that,
after we put into Aden, she would possibly take me at my word.
After she had gone, I found myself wondering at my presentiment that Aden
was to be associated with critical points in the history of some of us;
and from that moment I began to connect Justine Caron with certain events
which, I felt sure, were marshalling to an unhappy conclusion. I
wondered, too, what part I should play in the development of the comedy,
tragedy, or whatever it was to be.
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