"Poor child!" murmured Brandon, in accents of tenderest commiseration. "It is but little that you could do with that knife."
She looked up at him as she knelt, then looked at the keen glittering steel, and, with a solemnity of accent which showed how deeply she was in earnest, murmured, half to herself,
Brandon smiled upon her with such a smile as a father might give at seeing the spirit or prowess of some idolized son.
"There is no need," he said, with a voice of deep feeling, "there is no need of that now. You are saved. You are avenged. Come with me." The girl rose. "But wait," said Brandon, and he looked at her earnestly and most pityingly. "There are things here which you should not see. Will you shut your eyes and let me lead you?"
"I can bear it," said the girl. "I will not shut my eyes."
"You must," said Brandon, firmly, but still pityingly, for he thought of that venerable woman who lay in blood outside the door. The girl looked at him and seemed at first as though about to refuse. There was something in his face so full of compassion, and entreaty, and calm control, that she consented. She closed her eyes and held out her hand. Brandon took it and led her through the place of horror and up to the deck.
Her appearance was greeted with a cry of joy from all the sailors. The girl looked around. She saw the Malays lying dead upon the deck. She saw the ship that had rescued, and the proa that had terrified her. But she saw no familiar face.
She turned to Brandon with a face of horror, and with white lips asked:
She shuddered from head to foot; at last, coming closer to Brandon, she whispered: "And my nurse--?"
Brandon said nothing, but, with a face full of meaning, pointed upward. The girl understood him. She reeled, and would have fallen had not Brandon supported her. Then she covered her face with her hands, and, staggering away to a seat, sank down and wept bitterly.
All were silent. Even the rough sailors respected that grief. Rough! Who does not know that sailors are often the most tender-hearted of men, and always the most impulsive, and most quick to sympathy?
So now they said nothing, but stood in groups sorrowing in her sorrow. The Captain, meanwhile, had revived, and was already on his feet looking around upon the scene. The Hindu also had gained strength with every throb of his heart and every breath of the air.