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quiet felicity with the girl by his side and his eyes on his brig,



anticipating a blissful future. His silence was eloquent with

disappointment, and Freya understood it very well. She, too, was



disappointed. But it was her business to be sensible.

"We shan't have a moment to ourselves with that beetle creeping



round the house," she argued in a low, hurried voice. "So what's

the good of your staying? And he won't go while the brig's here.



You know he won't."

"He ought to be reported for loitering," murmured Jasper with a



vexed little laugh.

"Mind you get under way at daylight," recommended Freya under her



breath.

He detained her after the manner of lovers. She expostulated



without struggling because it was hard for her to repulse him. He

whispered into her ear while he put his arms round her.



"Next time we two meet, next time I hold you like this, it shall be

on board. You and I, in the brig - all the world, all the life - "



And then he flashed out: "I wonder I can wait! I feel as if I

must carry you off now, at once. I could run with you in my hands



- down the path - without stumbling - without touching the earth -

"



She was still. She listened to the passion in his voice. She was

saying to herself that if she were to whisper the faintest yes, if



she were but to sigh lightly her consent, he would do it. He was

capable of doing it - without touching the earth. She closed her



eyes and smiled in the dark, abandoning herself in a delightful

giddiness, for an instant, to his encircling arm. But before he



could be tempted to tighten his grasp she was out of it, a foot

away from him and in full possession of herself.



That was the steady Freya. She was touched by the deep sigh which

floated up to her from the white figure of Jasper, who did not



stir.

"You are a mad kid," she said tremulously. Then with a change of



tone: "No one could carry me off. Not even you. I am not the

sort of girl that gets carried off." His white form seemed to



shrink a little before the force of that assertion and she

relented. "Isn't it enough for you to know that you have - that



you have carried me away?" she added in a tender tone.

He murmured an endearing word, and she continued:



"I've promised you - I've said I would come - and I shall come of

my own free will. You shall wait for me on board. I shall get up



the side - by myself, and walk up to you on the deck and say:

'Here I am, kid.' And then - and then I shall be carried off. But



it will be no man who will carry me off - it will be the brig, your

brig - our brig. . . . I love the beauty!"



She heard an inarticulate sound, something like a moan wrung out by

pain or delight, and glided away. There was that other man on the



other verandah, that dark, surly Dutchman who could make trouble

between Jasper and her father, bring about a quarrel, ugly words,



and perhaps a physicalcollision. What a horrible situation! But,

even putting aside that awful extremity, she shrank from having to



live for some three months with a wretched, tormented, angry,

distracted, absurd man. And when the day came, the day and the



hour, what should she do if her father tried to detain her by main

force - as was, after all, possible? Could she actually struggle



with him hand to hand? But it was of lamentations and entreaties

that she was really afraid. Could she withstand them? What an



odious, cruel, ridiculous position would that be!

"But it won't be. He'll say nothing," she thought as she came out



quickly on the west verandah, and, seeing that Heemskirk did not

move, sat down on a chair near the doorway and kept her eyes on



him. The outraged lieutenant had not changed his attitude; only

his cap had fallen off his stomach and was lying on the floor. His



thick black eyebrows were knitted by a frown, while he looked at

her out of the corners of his eyes. And their sideways glance in



conjunction with the hooked nose, the whole bulky, ungainly,

sprawling person, struck Freya as so comically moody that, inwardly



discomposed as she was, she could not help smiling. She did her

best to give that smile a conciliatory character. She did not want



to provoke Heemskirk needlessly.

And the lieutenant, perceiving that smile, was mollified. It never



entered his head that his outward appearance, a naval officer, in

uniform, could appear ridiculous to that girl of no position - the



daughter of old Nielsen. The recollection of her arms round




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