“Wilder!” exclaimed the Rover, grasping his hand, with a smile that
partook of the wild peculiarity of the action, “we should have been
acquainted earlier! But regret is idle. Go; should my people learn the
truth, any remonstrances of mine would be like whispers in a
whirlwind.”
“When last I joined the ‘Dolphin,’ I did not come alone.”
“Is it not enough,” rejoined the Rover, coldly recoiling for a step,
“that I offer liberty and life?”
“Of what service can a being, fair, helpless, and unfortunate as this,
be in a ship devoted to pursuits like those of the ‘Dolphin?’”
“Am I to be cut off for ever from communion with the best of my kind!
Go, sir; leave me the image of virtue, at least, though I may be
wanting in its substance.”
“Captain Heidegger, once, in the warmth of your better feelings, you
pronounced a pledge in favour of these females, which I hope came deep
from the heart.”
“I understand you, sir. What I then said is not, and shall not, be
forgotten. But whither would you lead your companions? Is not one
vessel on the high seas as safe as another? Am I to be deprived of
every means of making friends unto myself? Leave me sir—go—you may
linger until my permission to depart cannot avail you.”
“I shall never desert my charge,” said Wilder, firmly.
“Mr. Wilder—or I should rather call you Lieutenant Ark, I
believe”—returned the Rover, “you may trifle with my good nature till
the moment of your own security shall be past.”
“Act your will on me: I die at my post, or go accompanied by those with
whom I came.”
“Sir, the acquaintance of which you boast is not older than my own. How
know you that they prefer you for their protector? I have deceived
myself, and done poor justice to my own intentions, if they have found
cause for complaints, since their happiness or comfort has been in my
keeping. Speak, fair one; which will you for a protector?”
“Leave me, leave me!” exclaimed Gertrude, veiling her eyes, in terror,
from the insidious smile with which he approached her, as she would
have avoided the attractive glance of a basilisk. “Oh! if you have pity
in your heart, let us quit your ship!”
Notwithstanding the vast self-command which the being she so
ungovernably and spontaneously repelled had in common over his
feelings, no effort could repress the look of deep and humiliating
mortification with which he heard her. A cold and haggard smile gleamed
over his features, as he murmured, in a voice which he in vain
endeavoured to smother,—
“I have purchased this disgust from all my species and dearly must the
penalty be paid!—Lady, you and your lovely ward are the mistresses of
your own acts. This ship, and this cabin, are at your command; or, if
you elect to quit both, others will receive you.”
“Safety for our sex is only to be found beneath the fostering
protection of the laws,” said Mrs Wyllys “Would to God!”——
“Enough!” he interrupted, “you shall accompany your friend. The ship
will not be emptier than my heart, when all have left me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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