Well, I signaled to be hauled
up. They asked me on the float if I'd seen anything, and I said
no. That was all there was to the affair. They never raised the
ship, and in a little while it was all forgotten.
"But I never forgot it, and I always remembered her, way down
there in all that still green water, waiting there in that little
state-room for me to come back and open the door. And I've growed
to be an old man remembering her; but she's always stayed just as
she was the first day I saw her, when she came toward me smiling
and holding out her arms. She's always stayed young and fresh and
pretty. I never saw her but that once. Only afterward I got her
picture from a native woman of Trincomalee who was house-keeper at
the Residency where the governor of the island lived. Somehow I
never could care for other women after that, and I ain't never
married for that reason."
"No, no, of course not! exclaimed Travis, in a low voice as the
old fellow paused.
"Fine, fine; oh, fine as gold!" murmured Condy, under his breath.
"Well," said the mate, getting up and rubbing his knee, "that's
the story. Now you know all about that picture. Will you have a
glass of Madeira, miss?"
He got out a bottle of wine bearing the genuine Funchal label and
filled three tiny glasses. Travis pushed up her veil, and she and
Condy rose.
"This is to HER," said Travis gravely.
"Thank you, miss," answered the mate, and the three drank in
silence.
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