Hereupon I began telling her of my exploration and describing the wonders I had seen, as the fruit-trees and waterfall. Whereupon she grew eager to explore the island so soon as she might. In a while I arose, and drawing my knife turned where I knew was fern a-plenty.
"Where away?" she questioned, rising also.
"I must make you a bed."
"'Tis done, Martin, and yours also."
"Mine!" says I, staring. "How should you do all this?"
"With the old, rusty sword, Martin. Come and see!"
So she brought me to the cave, the moon flooding the place with its pale radiance, and I espied a goodly bed of fern very neatly contrived, in one corner.
"Bravely done!" says I.
"At least, Martin, 'twill be more easy than your bed of sand, and methinks you shall have no ill dreams to-night."
"Dreams!" quoth I, and bethinking me of my last night's hateful visions (and now beholding the beauty of her) I shivered.
"Are you cold?"
"No!"
"Why then, good-night, Martin."
"Wait!" says I, "Wait!" And hasting out, I brought her the grapes I had saved, telling her that though small she would find them sweet and wholesome.
"Why, Martin!" says she, under her breath as one greatly surprised, "Why, Martin!" and so vanishes into her little cave forthwith, and never a word of thanks.
Now being yet haunted by my dreams of yesternight, I went forth into the moonlight and walked there awhile, my eyes uplifted to the glory of the heavens; and now I must needs bethink me of Godby's star-time, of the dark, lonely road, of the beckoning light beyond and the welcoming arms of love. And hereupon I scowled and turned to stare away across the placid sea dimpling 'neath the moon, at the stilly waters of the lagoon, and the white curve of Deliverance Beach below; but, look where I would, I could see only the proud, lovely face and the great, truthful eyes of this woman Joan Brandon, even when my scowling brows were bent on that distant pimento tree beneath whose towering shadow Black Bartlemy had laughed his life out. So in a while I came within the cave and found it dim, for the moonbeam was there no longer, and cast myself upon my bed, very full of gloomy thoughts.
"Martin, I thank you for your grapes. To-morrow we will gather more!"
"Aye, to-morrow!"
"I found a shirt of chain-work by the pool, Martin--"
"'Tis mine."
"I have set it by against your need."
"Nay, I'm done with it, here is no fear of knives in the back."
"Are you sleepy, Martin?"