and the
bright, blazing sun sent shafts of yellow light through the leafy
aisles of the island forest as it rose higher and higher, and dried the
cooling night dew which lay upon leaf and bough, and verdant
undergrowth and soft, tufted moss. Westward from where they sat the
wide waters of the unruffled lagoon stretched clear for twenty miles--a
sheet of shining blue and green--with here and there a streak of molten
silver on which flocks of snow-white sea birds lay floating lazily.
Four or five miles away on the port hand the little _Mahina_ loomed
high up out of the water, like a ship of two thousand tons.

Barry, with his pipe in his mouth, lay on his back, looking contentedly
up into the blue dome above, thinking of and picturing to himself the
"love lit" eyes of Rose Maynard which would greet him on his return; of
the poverty in which she and her father existed, and the joy which
would be his when he took them from their squalid surroundings. They
would all go to Pfahlert's Hotel--that was the swagger hotel in
Sydney--and whilst he and old Mr. Maynard "trotted around" and enjoyed
themselves, Rose, sweet Rose, and Mrs. Tracey would fuss about over the
coming wedding and buy the trousseau and all that sort of thing. Of
course Mrs. Tracey would fall in love with Rose at sight--that was a
foregone conclusion--and would perhaps live with her when he was at
sea. For he would go to sea again--to work for Alice Tracey, who might
perhaps give him a share in Arrecifos and its riches. What a lucky
devil he was after all!

He flung out his arms and stretched himself with a contented sigh and
an unconscious smile.

"Parri," said Velo, speaking in Samoan, "thy thoughts are pleasant?"

"_Moni, moni, lava,_[1] Velo," he replied with a laugh; "pleasant
indeed, for I was thinking of the woman I love."

Velo's dark eyes lit up and he nodded approvingly. "And she loves
thee, Parri. I have seen it in her eyes. Ah, she is good to look upon
indeed. May she bear thee many children."

Barry was puzzled for a moment, then it flashed upon him that Velo was
upon the wrong tack.

"Whom dost thou mean, Velo?" he asked.

"Whom but she whom thou wilt see presently--the wife of the dead
captain," replied the Samoan, elevating his brows in astonishment.

"Nay, not she, Velo; though as thou sayest she is a fair, good woman.
But she is but a friend; the woman I love liveth far away in Sini." [2]

Velo puffed at his pipe in silence