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Updated: May 10, 2025
"I remember now!" interrupted McClintock. "This Enschede the missioner. One of his converted Kanakas dropped in one day. He called Enschede the Bellower. Seems Enschede's daughter ran away and left him, and he's combing the islands in search of her. He's a hundred miles sou'-east of me." "Well, this young lady I was about to describe," said the doctor, "is Enschede's daughter."
"Better eat these, even if you don't want them," she urged. "My name is Ruth Enschede." "Mine is Howard Spurlock." Immediately he stepped back. Instinctively she imitated this action, chilled and a little frightened at the expression of terror that confronted her. Why should he stare at her in this fashion? for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head?
A dozen words, and he saw Enschede as clearly as though he stood hard by in the flesh. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week!
On the 18th October, Maurice having summoned Enschede, the commandant requested permission to examine the artillery by which it was proposed to reduce the city. Leave being granted, two captains were deputed accordingly as inspectors, who reported that resistance was useless. The place accordingly capitulated at once. Here, again, was an improvement on the heroic practice of Alva and Romero.
Teaching the word of God to the recent cannibal, caring for the sick, storming the strongholds of the plague, adding his own private income to the pittance allowed him by the Society, and never seeing the angel that walked at his side! Something the girl knew nothing about; else Enschede was unbelievable.
Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. And this utter stranger ... loved him! He had no reason to doubt McClintock's statement; the Scot had solved the riddle why Ruth Enschede had married Howard Spurlock. All emotions laid hold of him, but none could he stay long enough to analyze it.
How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Here was Ruth Enschede sick of love!
His deduction was correct that the beauty of Ruth Enschede could not remain hidden long even on a forgotten isle. Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night.
Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers. "What is your name?" "Ruth." "Ruth what?" "Enschede; Ruth Enschede." "En-shad-ay. You are French?" "No. Dutch; Pennsylvania Dutch."
He saw Enschede, making the empty sea, alone, alone, forever alone. "Children," said the aunt, first to awake, "be young fools as long as God will permit you. And don't worry about the six thousand, Hoddy. I'll call it my wedding gift. There's nothing so sad in this world as an old fool," she added. The three of them laughed joyously.
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