She wanted to kiss his feet. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. To be free of outward distraction, he shut his eyes and concentrated upon the scraps she had given him; and shortly, with his eyes still closed, he began to describe Ruth's island: the mountain at one end, with the ever-recurring scarves of mist drifting across the lava-scarred face; the jungle at the foot of it; the dazzling border of white sand; the sprawling store of the trader and the rotting wharf, sundrily patched with drift-wood; the native huts on the sandy floor of the palm groves; the scattered sandalwood and ebony; the screaming parakeets in the plantains; the fishing proas; the mission with its white washed walls and barren frontage; the lagoon, fringed with coco palms, now ruffled emerald, now placid sapphire. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 13-09-2024 14:36:24
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