A soft
island melody was wafted from the fo'c'stle, and the night was alive
with all the witchery of the tropics.
"Edith," I whispered, as I took her hand, "I am a common sailorman, but
if you could love me I--I--"
I stopped in confusion, and as she had done on a former occasion, she
came to the rescue of my stammering tongue.
"You are a big, true man," she murmured. "If you had not come with us we
should not have returned from that awful place. God let you listen to
that song of the White Waterfall so that we might be saved."
Some minutes afterward she released herself from my arms. "Let us find
Will and Barbara," she said softly. "We will share each other's
happiness."
And as I followed her across the poop, a tremendous surge of joy rose up
and filled my heart. The whole world was clean and good, and in my
glorious exultation I whispered a prayer for the soul of John Leith,
alias Black Fernando.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The White Waterfall, by James Francis Dwyer
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WHITE WATERFALL ***
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