“But！——“
“No！”shesaid。
“Well，haveyourway。”
Soshecarriedherpoint，andwewanderedintothenighttogetherandBeatricetalkedtomeoflove。
I’dneverheardawomanbeforeinallmylifewhocouldtalkoflove，whocouldlaybareanddevelopandtouchwithimaginationallthatmassoffineemotioneverywoman，itmaybe，hides。Shehadreadoflove，shehadthoughtoflove，athousandsweetlyricshadsoundedthroughherbrainandleftfinefragmentsinhermemory；shepoureditout，allofit，shamelessly，skilfully，forme。Icannotgiveanysenseofthattalk，Icannoteventellhowmuchofthedelightofitwasthemagicofhervoice，theglowofhernearpresence。Andalwayswewalkedswathedwarmlythroughachillyair，alongdim，interminablegreasyroads——withneverasoulabroaditseemedtous，neverabeastinthefields。
“Whydopeopleloveeachother？”Isaid。
“Whynot？”
“ButwhydoIloveyou？Whyisyourvoicebetterthananyvoice，yourfacesweeterthananyface？”
“AndwhydoIloveyou？”sheasked；“notonlywhatisfineinyou，butwhatisn’t？WhydoIloveyourdullness，yourarrogance？ForIdo。To——nightIlovetheveryraindropsonthefurofyourcoat！”。
Sowetalked；andatlastverywet，stillglowingbutalittletired，wepartedatthegardendoor。Wehadbeenwanderingfortwohoursinourstrangeirrationalcommunityofhappiness，andalltheworldaboutus，andparticularlyLadyOspreyandherhousehold，hadbeenasleep——anddreamingofanythingratherthanBeatriceinthenightandrain。
Shestoodinthedoorway，amuffledfigurewitheyesthatglowed。
“Comeback。”shewhispered。“Ishallwaitforyou。”
Shehesitated。
Shetouchedthelapelofmycoat。“IloveyouNOW。”shesaid，andliftedherfacetomine。
Iheldhertomeandwasatremblefromtoptotoe。“OGod！”I
cried。“AndImustgo！”
Sheslippedfrommyarmsandpaused，regardingme。Foraninstanttheworldseemedfulloffantasticpossibilities。
“Yes，GO！”shesaid，andvanishedandslammedthedooruponme，leavingmealonelikeamannewfallenfromfairylandintheblackdarknessofthenight。
ThatexpeditiontoMordetIslandstandsapartfromalltherestofmylife，detached，apiecebyitselfwithanatmosphereofitsown。Itwould，Isuppose，makeabookbyitself——ithasmadeafairlyvoluminousofficialreport——butsofarasthisnovelofminegoesitismerelyanepisode，acontributoryexperience，andImeantokeepitatthat。
Vileweather，animpatientfrettingagainstunbearableslownessanddelay，sea——sickness，generaldiscomfortandhumiliatingself——revelationarethemastervaluesofthesememories。
Iwassickallthroughthejourneyout。Idon’tknowwhy。ItwastheonlytimeIwaseversea-sick，andIhaveseensomeprettybadweathersinceIbecameaboat-builder。Butthatphantomsmellofpotatoeswaspeculiarlyviletome。Comingbackonthebrigwewereallill，everyoneofus，sosoonaswegottosea，poisoned，Ifirmlybelieve，byquap。Onthewayoutmostoftheothersrecoveredinafewdays，butthestuffinessbelow，thecoarsefood，thecrampeddirtyaccommodationkeptme，ifnotactuallysea-sick，inastateofacutephysicalwretchednessthewholetime。Theshipaboundedincockroachesandmoreintimatevermin。IwascoldallthetimeuntilafterwepassedCapeVerde，thenIbecamesteamilyhot；IhadbeentoopreoccupiedwithBeatriceandmykeendesiretogettheMaudMaryunderwayatonce，toconsideraproperwardrobeformyself，andinparticularIlackedacoat。Heavens！howIlackedthatcoat！
And，moreover，IwascoopedupwithtwooftheworstboresinChristendom，Pollackandthecaptain。Pollack，afterconductinghisillnessinastylebetteradaptedtothecapacityofanoperahousethanasmallcompartment，suddenlygotinsupportablywellandbreezy，andproducedamanlypipeinwhichhesmokedatobaccoasblondashimself，anddividedhistimealmostequallybetweensmokingitandtryingtocleanit。“There’sonlythreethingsyoucancleanapipewith。”heusedtoremarkwithatwistofpaperinhand。“Thebest’safeather，thesecond’sastraw，andthethird’sagirl’shairpin。Ineverseesuchaship。Youcan’tfindanyof’em。LasttimeIcamethiswayIdidfindhairpinsanyway，andfound’emonthefloorofthecaptain’scabin。Regulardeposit。Eh？。Feelin’better？”
AtwhichIusuallyswore。
“Oh，you’llbeallrightsoon。Don’tmindmypuffin’abit？
Eh？”
Henevertiredofaskingmeto“haveahandatNap。Goodgame。
Makesyouforgetit，andthat’shalfthebattle。”
Hewouldsitswayingwiththerollingoftheshipandsuckathispipeofblondtobaccoandlookwithaninexpressiblysagebutsomnolentblueeyeatthecaptainbythehourtogether。
“Captain’saCard。”hewouldsayoverandoveragainastheoutcomeofthesemeditations。“He’dliketoknowwhatwe’reupto。He’dliketoknow——noend。”
Thatdidseemtobethecaptain’srulingidea。ButhealsowantedtoimpressmewiththenotionthathewasagentlemanofgoodfamilyandtoairanumberofviewsadversetotheEnglish，toEnglishliterature，totheEnglishconstitution，andthelike。
HehadlearnttheseaintheRoumaniannavy，andEnglishoutofabook；hewouldstillattimespronouncethee’sattheendof“there“and“here“；hewasanaturalisedEnglishman，andhedrovemeintoareluctantanduncongenialpatriotismbyhiseverlastingcarpingatthingsEnglish。Pollackwouldsethimselfto“drawhimout。”HeavenalonecantellhownearIcametomurder。
Fifty-threedaysIhadoutward，coopedupwiththesetwoandashyandprofoundlydepressedmatewhoreadtheBibleonSundaysandspenttherestofhisleisureinlethargy，threeandfiftydaysoflifecoopedupinaperpetualsmell，inapersistentsickhungerthatturnedfromthesightoffood，indarkness，coldandwet，inalightlyballastedshipthatrolledandpitchedandswayed。Andallthetimethesandsinthehour-glassofmyuncle’sfortuneswerestreamingout。Misery！AmidstitallI
rememberonlyonethingbrightly，onemorningofsunshineintheBayofBiscayandavisionoffrothingwaves，sapphiregreen，abirdfollowingourwakeandourmastsrollingaboutthesky。
Thenwindandraincloseinonusagain。
Youmustnotimaginetheywereordinarydays，days，Imean，ofanaveragelength；theywerenotsomuchdaysaslongdampslabsoftimethatstretchedeachonetothehorizon，andmuchofthatlengthwasnight。Oneparadedthestaggeringdeckinaborrowedsou’-westerhourafterhourinthechilly，windy，splashingandspittingdarkness，orsatinthecabin，boredandill，andlookedatthefacesofthoseinseparablecompanionsbythehelpofalampthatgavesmellratherthanlight。Thenonewouldseegoingup，up，up，andthensinkingdown，down，down，Pollack，extinctpipeinmouth，humorouslyobservant，bringinghismindslowlytotheseventy-seventhdecisionthatthecaptainwasaCard，whilethewordsflowedfromthelatterinanimbleincessantgood。“DisEnglandeetisnotacountryaristocratic，no！Eetisaglorifiedbourgeoisie！Eetisplutocratic。InEnglanddereisnoaristocracysincedeWarsofRoses。IntherestofEuropeeastoftheLatins，yes；inEngland，no。
“Eetisallmiddle-class，youraEngland。Everythingyoulookat，middle-class。Respectable！Everythinggood——eetis，yousay，shocking。MadameGrundy！Eetisalllimitedandcomputingandself-seeking。Datiswhyyourartissolimited，yourafiction，yourphilosophin，whyyouareallsoinartistic。Youwantnothingbutprofit！Whatwillpay！Whatwouldyou？”。
HehadallthoseviolentadjunctstospeechweWesternEuropeanshaveabandoned，shruggingsoftheshoulders，wavingofthearms，thrustingoutoftheface，wonderfulgrimacesandtwiddlingsofthehandsunderyournoseuntilyouwantedtohitthemaway。Dayafterdayitwenton，andIhadtokeepanyangertomyself，toreservemyselfforthetimeaheadwhenitwouldbenecessarytoseethequapwasgotaboardandstowed——kneedeepinthisman’sastonishment。Iknewhewouldmakeathousandobjectionstoallwehadbeforeus。Hetalkedlikeadruggedman。Itrangliblyoverhistongue。Andallthetimeonecouldseehisseamanshipfrettinghim，hewasgnawedbyresponsibility，perpetuallyuneasyabouttheship’sposition，perpetuallyimaginingdangers。
Ifaseahitusexceptionallyhardhe’dbeoutofthecabininaninstantmakinganoutcryofinquiries，andhewaspursuedbyadreadofthehold，ofballastshifting，ofinsidiouswickedleaks。AswedrewneartheAfricancoasthisfearofrocksandshoalsbecameinfectious。
“Idonotknowdiscoast。”heusedtosay。“IcamaherabecauseGordon-Nasmythwascomingtoo。Denhedoesnotcome！”
“Fortunesofwar。”Isaid，andtriedtothinkinvainifanymotivebutsheerhaphazardcouldhaveguidedGordon-Nasmythinthechoiceofthesetwomen。IthinkperhapsGordon-Nasmythhadtheartistictemperamentandwantedcontrasts，andalsothatthecaptainhelpedhimtoexpresshisownmalignantAnti-Britishism。
Hewasindeedanexceptionallyinefficientcaptain。OnthewholeIwasgladIhadcomeevenattheeleventhhourtoseetothings。
Thecaptain，by-the-by，didatlast，outofsheernervousness，getagroundattheendofMordet’sIsland，butwegotoffinanhourorsowithaswellandalittlehardworkintheboat。