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Updated: June 2, 2025
Mistress of herself from pride, from love, from necessity, and also because of a woman's vanity in self-sacrifice, she met Heyst, returning from the strangers' bungalow, with a dear glance and a smile. The smile he managed to answer, but, noticing that he avoided her eyes, she composed her lips and lowered her gaze.
The sheen of the white tablecloth was very obtrusive. The brute these two vagabonds had tamed had entered on its service while Heyst and Lena were away. The table was laid. Heyst walked up and down the room several times. The girl remained without sound or movement on the chair.
But this was another sort of plunge altogether, and likely to lead to a very different kind of partnership. Did he reflect at all? Probably. He was sufficiently reflective. But if he did, it was with insufficient knowledge. For there is no evidence that he paused at any time between the date of that evening and the morning of the flight. Truth to say, Heyst was not one of those men who pause much.
Jones had been too tired to observe anything on his first coming ashore; but Ricardo had very soon spotted the characteristic form. He only wished he could believe that the plunder of treachery, duplicity, and all the moral abominations of Heyst had been there. But no; the blamed thing was open. "It might have been there at one time or another," he commented gloomily, "but it isn't there now."
"'Oh, I am done with facts, says he, putting his hand to his helmet sharply with one of his short bows." Thus dismissed, Davidson went on board his ship, swung her out, and as he was steaming away he watched from the bridge Heyst walking shoreward along the wharf. He marched into the long grass and vanished all but the top of his white cork helmet, which seemed to swim in a green sea.
"You believe that of me?" said Heyst, after a moment of perfect silence. "I didn't know it had anything to do with you. Schomberg was talking of some Swede. How was I to know? It was only when you began telling me about how you came here " "And now you have my version." Heyst forced himself to speak quietly. "So that's how the business looked from outside!" he muttered.
They did not gleam, but she saw them with extreme distinctness, very still, very vicious to look at. "You had better let me go forward alone, Lena," said Heyst. She tugged, persistently at his arm, but after a time, during which he never ceased to look smilingly into her terrified eyes, he ended by disengaging himself. "It's a sign rather than a demonstration," he argued, persuasively.
He could not believe that the creature he had coveted with so much force and with so little effect, was in reality tender, docile to her impulse, and had almost offered herself to Heyst without a sense of guilt, in a desire of safety, and from a profound need of placing her trust where her woman's instinct guided her ignorance.
You didn't believe in the reality of the wharf?" Heyst was saying to Mr. Jones. "You ought to kiss my hands!" Ricardo caught hold of an ancient Gladstone bag and swung it on the wharf with a thump. "Yes! You ought to burn a candle before me as they do before the saints in your country. No saint has ever done so much for you as I have, you ungrateful vagabond. Now then! Up you get!"
"Well, it isn't from fright," she protested truthfully. Indeed, what she felt was a sort of horror which left her absolutely in the full possession of all her faculties; more difficult to bear, perhaps, for that reason, but not paralysing to her fortitude. Heyst in his turn smiled at her. "I really don't know that there is any reason to be frightened." "I mean I am not frightened for myself."
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