I've been all over
the world, Mistress Blythe, and take it all in all,
I've never seen a finer sight than a summer sunrise
over the gulf. A man can't pick his time for dying,
Mistress Blythe--jest got to go when the Great Captain
gives His sailing orders. But if I could I'd go out
when the morning comes across that water. I've watched
it many a time and thought what a thing it would be to
pass out through that great white glory to whatever was
waiting beyant, on a sea that ain't mapped out on any
airthly chart. I think, Mistress Blythe, that I'd find
lost Margaret there."
Captain Jim had often talked to Anne of lost Margaret
since he had told her the old story. His love for her
trembled in every tone--that love that had never grown
faint or forgetful.
"Anyway, I hope when my time comes I'll go quick and
easy. I don't think I'm a coward, Mistress
Blythe--I've looked an ugly death in the face more than
once without blenching. But the thought of a lingering
death does give me a queer, sick feeling of horror."
"Don't talk about leaving us, dear, DEAR Captain,
Jim," pleaded Anne, in a choked voice, patting the old
brown hand, once so strong, but now grown very feeble.
Pages:
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363