Part 32 (2/2)
”For--for an Irish jig,” she laughed with sudden merriment.
”Come, try a step upon these old timbers.”
”For heaven's sake take care!” cried Sam. ”There may be a trap-hatch where you stand, and these boards are rotten through and through.
Ten minutes ago you were mournful,” he added, in wonder at her change of mood.
”Was I?” She broke out suddenly into elfish song--
”'Och! Pathrick O'Hea, but I'm sad, Bedad!
Och! darlint, 'tis bad to be sad.'
'Hwat's this?' says he.
'Why, a kiss,' says she.
''Tis a cure,' says he.
'An' that's sure,' says she.
'Och! Pat, you're a sinsible lad, Bedad!
Troth, Pat, you're a joole uv a lad!'”
She broke off suddenly and s.h.i.+vered.
”Come, let us go; this place suffocates me.”
She turned and ran up the crazy ladder. At the top she turned and peered down upon the dumbfounded Sam.
”n.o.body comes here, I suppose?”
”I should think not.”
”I mean, the owner never comes to--”
”To visit his cargo?” laughed Sam. ”No, the owner is dead. He was a wicked old miser, and I guess in the place where he is now he'd give a deal for the water in this s.h.i.+p; but I never heard he was allowed to come back for it.”
She leant her hands on the taffrail, and looked over the stern.
”Hark! There are the other boats. Don't you hear the voices?
They have pa.s.sed us by, and we must make haste after them.”
She turned upon him with a smile. Without well knowing what he did he laid his hand softly on her arm.
”Stop, I want a word before you go.”
”Well?”
Her large eyes, gleaming on him through the dusk, compelled and yet frightened him. He trembled and stammered vaguely--
”You said just now--you hinted, I mean--that you were unhappy with Mr.--with your husband. Is that so?”
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