the sitting-room were half a dozen old and faded
engravings, and on a side-table were a sextant and chronometer case,
each containing instruments so clumsy and obsolete that a modern seaman
would have looked upon them as veritable curiosities.

From the surroundings within the room Denison's eyes wandered to the
placid beauty of the scene without, where the plumes of the coco-palms
overhanging the swift waters of the tiny stream scarce stirred to the
light air that blew softly up the valley from the sea, and when they did
move narrow shafts of light from the now high-mounted sun would glint
and shine through upon the pale green foliage of the scrub beneath.
Then once again his attention was directed to their hostess, who was
now talking quietly to the two Randle girls, her calm, peaceful features
seeming to him to derive an added but yet consistent dignity from the
harmonies of Nature around her.

What was the story of her infancy? he wondered. That she did not know it
herself he had been told by old Randle, who yet knew more of her history
and the tragedy of her later life than any one else. Both young Denison,
the supercargo of five-and-twenty, and Randle, the grizzled wanderer and
veteran of sixty-five, had known many tragedies during their career in
the Pacific; but the story of this half-blind, crippled old woman, when
he learnt it in full, appealed strongly to the younger man, and was
never forgotten in his after life.

*****

They had had a merry midday meal, during which Mary Eury--for that was
her name--promised Denison that she would tell him all about herself
after he and the Randles came back from shooting, "but," she added, with
her soft, tremulous laugh, "only on one condition, Mr. Denison--only
on one condition. You must bring Captain Packenham to see me before the
_Palestine_ sails. I am an old woman-now, and would like to see him. I
knew him many years ago when he was a lad of nineteen. Ah, it is so long
ago! That was in Samoa. Has he never spoken of me?"

"Often, Mrs. Eury----"

"Don't call me Mrs. Eury, Mr. Denison. Call me 'Mary,' as do these dear
friends of mine. 'Mary'--'old' Mary if you like. Every one who knew me
and my dear husband in those far, far back days used to call me 'Mary'
and my husband 'Bob Eury' instead of 'Mrs. Eury' and 'Captain Eury.' And
now, so many, many years have gone... and now I am 'Old Mary'... and I
think I like it better than Mrs. Eury. And so Captain Packenham has