"That is something you will never hear."
"Never is a word it is not wise to use. Often people have to retract. As you will."
"You must be very optimistic to think that."
"You are very sharp with me. But that is what I love."
"You have strange tastes."
"I have the best taste in the world. I have chosen the queen of women, the ice maiden whom I shall melt, to discover beneath the ice the perfect passionate woman—the only one in the world who is worthy to be my mate."
I was laughing again.
"You do find me amusing," he said. "At least that is a start."
"If you were not I should find your conduct most distasteful."
"You don't, my love. You find it very much to your taste."
I saw Felicity coming along the deck towards us.
He said: "The magic moments are over. Never mind. There will be more."
Everything had changed. I could not help thinking about him. He was outrageous, of course. A wise woman would not believe a word of what he said. This was what is called a shipboard romance.
It meant nothing. Did he expect that I was the sort of person who would indulge in a passionate love affair of a few weeks and then say goodbye when we came into port?
But he had talked of marriage. And I could not stop myself contemplating marrying him and going out to his plantation. We should return to England once a year. We should visit Sydney regularly. But it was not that which was important. I thought of him... the big man with the overpowering presence; his way of talking; the manner in which he had bewitched Miss Cartwright. There was no other word for it. She had meekly allowed herself to be sent home and had left her niece in the care of a strange man ... him.
Nothing but a spell could have done that. Yet he had done it.
And now sometimes I felt he had laid a spell on me. I used to lie in my bunk and pretend to be asleep so that Felicity would not intrude on my dreams... and they were mostly about him. It was the manner in which he had kissed me and held me to him; it had made me wonder what it would be like to make love with such a man.
I tried to think of Raymond—so calm, so gentle, so chaste. There was nothing chaste about this man. He was the complete opposite of Raymond. I was being disloyal to Raymond by thinking of Milton Harrington. But I could not help it. Continually he intruded into my thoughts.
Soon we should be in Sydney. Should I say goodbye to him then forever? This interlude on the ship would be nothing but a brief incident. It was only because we were on a ship and real life seemed remote that it could have happened. Normality seemed far away. That was it. He had a strong personality; he had an air of authority; and from the first he had singled me out for his attention, which had flattered me, for after all, I was only human. I liked attention, to think that I was attractive. It was all very understandable. So... I must stop thinking of him and remember the purpose of my journey which Raymond had so kindly helped me to arrange.
Raymond! I must keep Raymond in mind. I must do what I had come out to do. Leave no stone unturned to discover what had happened to Philip; and when I had the answer I would return to Raymond.
We were fast approaching the end of our voyage. Within two days we should be in Sydney.
Felicity was now in a state of extreme nervousness.
She said: "Promise me you'll stay with me for a little while."
I wanted to remind her that the purpose of my journey was to find out what had happened to my brother; but in a weak moment, feeling sorry for her, I promised I would stay awhile.
I did remind her that while I was in Sydney I intended to contact the botanist in whose expedition Philip had gone out—if that were possible. He might be able to throw some light on Philip's activities and if the trail led somewhere I must follow it. But at least I would stay for a while.' I would go out with her, after her marriage, to her new home... perhaps for a week or so. She seemed content with that.
The days now seemed long. Everyone was impatient to get ashore. There was the bustle of preparation on board with its air of expectancy.
I was alone with Milton Harrington the night before the last. It was a warm velvety evening with no wind and the stars, among which I could see the Southern Cross, standing out clearly against the darkness of the midnight blue sky.
"A very short time now," he said.
"Everyone is longing to get ashore."
"Not I," he said. "I should like to sail on with you forever."
"That is a very romantic sentiment and hardly credible."
"You make me feel romantic."
"I should have thought nothing could have done that."
"You think I am too earthy for romance?"
"Perhaps."
"There is so much you have to learn about me."
"There is so much to learn about everybody."
"And sometimes the lessons can be boring. It would be different with us."
"Are you ready to leave? Packed and so on?"
"I am not ready to leave you."
"The sky is so beautiful. The stars look very near."
"We have wonderful skies in Cariba. You will enjoy them. In fact, you will enjoy a great deal about Cariba."
"You must be longing to get back to your paradise."
"No paradise on earth is perfect. Something is always needed to make it so. I have found that someone..."
"And has she agreed to go with you?"
"Not in so many words. But I read her thoughts."
"You are clairvoyant then? Another of your accomplishments?"
He took my hand. "She really does want to be with me as much as I want to be with her ... or almost. She is rather prim at times. Her upbringing. You know these old English families. But she doesn't deceive me."
"But perhaps you deceive yourself. Unless of course you are talking of someone whom I don't know."
"You know of whom I speak. There could only be one."
"I am surprised that you consider her worthy of you."
"I never thought I should find one who was."
"But you don't accept the impossible."
"No never. How well you have summed me up!"
"Do let us be sensible."
"I'm never anything else."
"This senseless pursuit of me ... The voyage is nearly over. It was to be an amusing interlude, wasn't it? To pass the monotonous days at sea? Well, it is nearly over. You did not succeed in seducing me. which I believe was your motive. Admit it."
"I won't deny it."
"You are shameless."
'The seduction was to have been a prelude to a lifelong love affair."
'"Your conversation is as extravagant as your ideas."
"Shall we be serious for a while?"
"I should prefer that."
"Then I will speak with the utmost seriousness. I cannot say goodbye to you in Sydney. I want you to come and visit my island. Cariba is a beautiful place. You have no doubt pictured it as a desert island with palm trees, sandy beaches and natives in canoes. It is all of that but also a flourishing community. We have made it that with the exportation of sugar. We have utilized the natural resources of the island. It is not small —quite large in fact, as such islands go. It is the largest in a group of four. We have our docks and a reasonably good hotel. Sugar has made the island rich and the people there are sensible enough to know it. I want you to come and visit us."
I hesitated.
"I have a large house on the plantation. I should like you to stay there. But if that would not be agreeable to you. there is. as I said, a reasonably good hotel. Promise me you will come."
"I can't make any promises."
"What a stubborn woman you are."
"You see how undesirable I really am."
"No. I even love your stubbornness. I am so besottedly in love with you that I think everything about you is perfect."