portrait that he wore at his neck. I almost laughed to think of the
melodramatic turn which my first conversation with this woman might
chance to take. I felt that I was dealing with one who was able to meet
cleverly any advance of mine, but I determined to lead the talk into as
deep waters as possible.

"I suppose, too, you are a good practical sailor--that is, you
understand seamanship, if you have travelled much?" I do not know why I
said that, for it sounded foolish to me afterwards.

"Pretty well," she replied. "I can manage a sail; I know the argot, I
could tell the shrouds from the bulwarks, and I've rowed a boat in a
choppy sea."

"It is not an accomplishment usual to your sex."

"It was ordinary enough where I spent the early part of my life," was
the idle reply; and she settled herself more comfortably in her chair.

"Yes? May I ask where that was?" and as I said this, it occurred to
me that she was, perhaps, leading me on, instead of my leading her; to
betray me as to anything I knew about her.

"In the South Seas," she replied. "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. She thought a moment, and then briefly, but
clearly, sketched the life of those islands, showing how, in spite of
missionary labour selfish and unselfish, the native became the victim
of civilisation, the prey of the white trader and beachcomber, who were
protected by men-of-wa