in Angela’s letter upon the verandah at the hotel.  But, luckily, it chanced that, within a few yards of the spot where he had seated himself, there was a native boy cutting walking-sticks from the scrub.  He called to him in Portuguese, of which he had learnt a little, and, writing something on a card, told him to take it to the manager of the hotel, and to bring back what he would give him.  Delighted at the chance of earning sixpence, the boy started at a run, and at last he was able to begin to read his letter.

Had Arthur not been in quite such a hurry to leave the hotel, he might have seen something which would have interested him, namely, a very lovely woman—­so lovely, indeed, that everybody turned their heads to look at her as she passed, accompanied by another woman clad in a stiff black gown, not at all lovely, and rather ancient, but, for all that, well-favoured and pleasant to look on, being duly convoyed to their room in the hotel by his friend the manager.

“Well, thank my stars, here we be at last,” said the elderly stout person, with a gasp, as the door of the room closed upon the pair; “and it’s my opinion that here I shall stop till my dying day, for, as for getting on board one of those beastly ships again, I couldn’t do it, and that’s flat.  Now look here, dearie, don’t you sit there and look frightened, but just set to and clean yourself up a bit.  I’m off downstairs to see if I can find out about things; everybody’s sure to know everybody else’s business in a place like this, because, you see, the gossip can’t get out of a bit of an island, it must travel round and round till it ewaporates.  I shall soon know if he is married or not, and if he is, why, what’s done can’t be undone, and it’s no use crying over spilt milk, and we’ll be off home, though I doubt I sha’n’t live to get there, and if he isn’t why so much the better.”

“Oh! nurse, do stop talking, and go quickly; can’t you see that I am in an agony of suspense?  I must get it over one way or the other.”

“Hurry no man’s cattle, my dear, or I shall make a mess of it.  Now, Miss Angela, just you keep cool, it ain’t no manner of use flying into a state.  I’ll be back presently.”

But, as soon as she was gone, poor Angela flew into a considerable state; for, flinging herself upon her knees by the bed, she broke into hysterical prayers to her Maker that Arthur might not be taken from her.  Poor girl! alternately racked by sick fears and wild hopes, hers was not a very enviable position during the apparently endless ten minutes that followed.

Meanwhile, Pigott had descended to the cool hall, round which were arranged rows of hammocks, and was looking out for some one with whom to enter into conversation.  A Portuguese waiter approached her, but she majestically waved him away, under the impression that he could not speak English, though as a matter of fact his English was purer than her own.

Presently a pretty little woman, leading a baby by the hand, came up to her.