Her mother
was a dancer, a ballet-dancer, a very estimable and pious woman, her
daughter says, and I have no doubt it is true; but an educated man who
makes that sort of marriage, you know, may prefer to live out of the
world."
Caius was becoming interested.
"If she has inherited her mother's strength and lightness, that explains
how she gets on her horse. By Jove! I never saw a woman jump on a horse
without help as she does."
"Just so; she has marvellous strength and endurance, and the best proof
of that, is the work she is doing nowadays. Why, with the exception of
three days that she came to see my wife, and would have died if she
hadn't, she has worked night and day among these sick people for the
last six months. She came to see my wife pretty much half dead, but the
drive on the sand and a short rest pretty well set her up again."
Pembroke drifted off here into discourse about the affairs of his
parish, which comprised all the Protestant inhabitants of the island.
His voice went on in the cheerful, jerky, matter-of-fact tone in which
he always talked. Caius did not pay much heed, except that admiration
for the sweet spirit of the man and for the pluck and hardihood with
which he carried on his work, grew in him in spite of his heedlessness,
for there was nothing that Pembroke suspected less than that he himself
was a hero.
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