“Well,” I said, sneering, “and I suppose you thought Case ’very pretty’ and ’liked too much’?”

“Now you talk silly,” said she.  “White man, he come here, I marry him all-e-same Kanaka; very well then, he marry me all-e-same white woman.  Suppose he no marry, he go ’way, woman he stop.  All-e-same thief, empty hand, Tonga-heart — no can love!  Now you come marry me.  You big heart — you no ’shamed island-girl.  That thing I love you for too much.  I proud.”

I don’t know that ever I felt sicker all the days of my life.  I laid down my fork, and I put away “the island-girl”; I didn’t seem somehow to have any use for either, and I went and walked up and down in the house, and Uma followed me with her eyes, for she was troubled, and small wonder!  But troubled was no word for it with me.  I so wanted, and so feared, to make a clean breast of the sweep that I had been.

And just then there came a sound of singing out of the sea; it sprang up suddenly clear and near, as the boat turned the headland, and Uma, running to the window, cried out it was “Misi” come upon his rounds.

I thought it was a strange thing I should be glad to have a missionary; but, if it was strange, it was still true.

“Uma,” said I, “you stop here in this room, and don’t budge a foot out of it till I come back.”

CHAPTER III.  THE MISSIONARY.

As I came out on the verandah, the mission-boat was shooting for the mouth of the river.  She was a long whale-boat painted white; a bit of an awning astern; a native pastor crouched on the wedge of the poop, steering; some four-and-twenty paddles flashing and dipping, true to the boat-song; and the missionary under the awning, in his white clothes, reading in a book, and set him up!  It was pretty to see and hear; there’s no smarter sight in the islands than a missionary boat with a good crew and a good pipe to them; and I considered it for half a minute, with a bit of envy perhaps, and then strolled down towards the river.

From the opposite side there was another man aiming for the same place, but he ran and got there first.  It was Case; doubtless his idea was to keep me apart from the missionary, who might serve me as interpreter; but my mind was upon other things.  I was thinking how he had jockeyed us about the marriage, and tried his hand on Uma before; and at the sight of him rage flew into my nostrils.

“Get out of that, you low, swindling thief!” I cried.

“What’s that you say?” says he.

I gave him the word again, and rammed it down with a good oath.  “And if ever I catch you within six fathoms of my house,” I cried, “I’ll clap a bullet in your measly carcase.”

“You must do as you like about your house,” said he, “where I told you I have no thought of going; but this is a public place.”

“It’s a place where I have private business,” said I.  “I have no idea of a hound like you eavesdropping, and I give you notice to clear out.”