McNeil? Oh, thanks.
And a pencil? Much obliged. Now, if there is only an empty bottle around
some place, with a tight cork, I'll not despise the shipwrecked mariner's
post office." "What are you going to do?" said Hugh, looking at her in
surprise.
"Well, if I am to be detained here indefinitely, I would like to send a few
parting words to Lancy. I am sure it would be _such_ a comfort to him, in
case the letter ever reached him, to know that I cared enough for him to
remain true under such trying circumstances."
Was she making fun of him or not? Hugh could not tell, but he snatched the
piece of paper from her hand and flung it over the side of the boat.
"Poor Lancy! how he will grieve for me!" she added in a commiserating tone,
as she watched the receding scrap of paper. "You might have allowed me that
one bit of consolation, I am sure, Mr. McNeil."
"Do you really love Lancy so much? I cannot believe it, Dexie."
"You might, nevertheless; for believe me, Mr. McNeil, if I had but one last
wish granted me, it would be that I might be transported to his side. Ah
me! I do not think I ever cared for him so much as I do at this present
moment," and Dexie began to sing in a minor tone and in the high, cracked
voice of an old woman:
"Why--do--we--mourn--departed--friends
Or--"
"Dexie, stop that!" and Hugh's' voice was sharp with pain and annoyance.
Pages:
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380