I believe that she is
hidden away among some of these wild peoples."
"Then perhaps it would be as well not to find her," I answered,
bethinking me of the fate which had overtaken sundry white women in
the old days, who had escaped from shipwrecks on the coast and become
the wives of Kaffirs.
"Not so, Allan. On that point I fear nothing. If God has preserved my
wife, He has also protected her from every harm. And now," he went on,
"you will understand why I wish to visit these Pongo--the Pongo who
worship a white goddess!"
"I understand," I said and left him, for having learned all there was
to know, I thought it best not to prolong a painful conversation. To
me it seemed incredible that this lady should still live, and I feared
the effect upon him of the discovery that she was no more. How full of
romance is this poor little world of ours! Think of Brother John
(Eversley was his real name as I discovered afterwards), and what his
life had been. A high-minded educated man trying to serve his Faith in
the dark places of the earth, and taking his young wife with him,
which for my part I have never considered a right thing to do.
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