. "I'll make a sketch, too," he said. The appearance of the new-comer was extremely prepossessing; and, after his trepidation had a little subsided, Wood began to regard him with some degree of interest. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. 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. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. Did you warn Frith?’ ‘Yes. But be very careful not to let him know.
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