Читать книгу The Dark River онлайн

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"Yes, Toti. I wished to speak of that," she said. "Come, we will go now."

She led the way in silence to the pier where the canoes were tied. Having crossed the river, they followed a dim path that wound through dense undergrowth to a great ironwood that lifted its branches high above the surrounding thickets. She halted at this spot.

"You remember this place?" she asked. "The house was here--such a pretty house, the native kind. It is gone long ago."

"I believe I remember this tree," McLeod replied.

"You played under it often. Your father and mother would sit here of an evening and you brought them shells from the beach. You see the tree over there, all in blossom? It is one your father planted."

"They were happy here, weren't they, Mauri?"

"At first they were very happy. They hoped your father would be well soon. But after... he wanted so much to live, and they knew it couldn't be."

"It's strange," McLeod replied. "What you just said about my bringing the shells almost gave me a picture of my mother."