"HIS ISLAND PRINCESS."

Thames Star, Volume LXV, Issue 18245, 20 July 1931, Page 4

"HIS ISLAND PRINCESS."

OUR SERIAL STORY

BY W. CLARK RUSSELL.

CHAPTER Vll.—Continued. EULALIE'S BOWER. "Has never a living creature visited this island since your shipwreck?" I asked. "After the kanaka crew went I saw, I have seen nobody but my father, except you." "Tell me how you pass your time?" "Why," she answers, and then catching my eyes full she stops on a sudden and bursts into one of her rich laughs and colours a little, and then goes on: "I prepare the dinner as I now do, and when I have cleared up I go out and sleep in the shade, and then I rise and swim, and when I come out of the water I may do some sewing." "Ho!" says I, "that sounds civilised. Sewing! Who taught you to sew?" "My mother first, and my father has shown me, plenty of ways of making things. He is a very clever man. He is a good carpenter, cook, tailor, and a great deal more." "What do you sew, miss?" "Did not you see rolls of cloth like this I am wearing in the little house where you found the wood for burning?" she asked. "I saw many things, and no doubt the cloth." "All that you saw came from the wreck. But, indeed, if we wanted cloth my father would know how to make it, and teach me. We havj plenty of cloth trees in this island, and the cloth is made from the rind. It is easy, father says. I could quickly learn, but there is no need —we have plenty. If you like,' I will make you a suit of clothes." "I am sincerely obliged," says I. "I shall certainly come to want clothes if I stay here for any length of time." "Why do you wish to leave, Mr de la Touche?" says she, once again viewing me with that look of reproach, which I had before taken notice of in her, as her maiden heart's dumb appeal for compassion and help in a situation which was frightful to her, but which yet she did not understand nor could in any wise control; feeling, indeed, as a slave might who is born a slave, but who, in despite of the weight of custom, groans in spirit under the misery of his lot. . For 'tis true that where knowledge informs not, the heart often qualifies. "I believe I shan't be in a hurry to leave," says I, softly. "But your father may not desire me to remain here."

"Why not? He likes you. This morning he praised you to me. He said you were a fine-looking joung man, and a gentleman. If you Itavc it will not be because my father wants you to go," she says, with another look of reproach melting and yet glowing in her dark eyes. I felt myself colour at this praise, and gave her a bow for it. But what charmed me most was her simplicity. "Is your father likely to leave the island?" said L "It is my mother's home," she answered. "Mother's spirit lives here with us. She could not go with us, and father would not leave her." "Why cannot she go with you?" said I. > "She is in her grave," she answered' casting her' eyes down upon her fingers, which she continued to ply whilst she spoke. This was a view of death not then, at all events, to be opposed or reasoned with. "Would your father let you go?" I asked. j'l would, not leave him," she answered, rearing herself and fixing her eyes firmly upon me and swelling a little in the bosom. Just then Captain Scott walked in. He dangled a big fish, I think they call it rock cod. It looked about ten pounds in weight, and its armour glittered very finely, "Here's our dinner," said the captain. "Plenty for all. I would not say to catch more, though they swarm this morning"; then, looking about him for some fresh water, he half fills a ship's bucket, of which there were several, each with a rope handle, and, picking up a knife, sits down and, with great gravity and dignity, falls to gutting the fish. "This is a very bountiful island, sir,' 1 says I. "Incredibly so," he answered. "There are many verdant lovely islands in the South Seas; I have touched at numbers, and have been struck to find some of the most enchanting uninhabited. But that might be," says he, talking very gravely and going on with his gutting, "because there were no trees that bear fruit. And in those islands I never came across anything good to eat in the soil. Doubtless there is abundance of fish, to be caught. But your true native of these seas will not subsist upon fish only," "What fish have you here, sir?" says I. "This," he answered, ' "and crayfish and others, some deliciously tasted. Then "we have oysters, crabs, cockles, whelks, clams, and lobsters for the catching." (To be continued).