78. CHAPTER LXXVIII.
One day, taking a pensive afternoon stroll along one of the
many bridle-paths which wind among the shady groves in the
neighborhood of Taloo, I was startled by a sunny apparition.
It was that of a beautiful young Englishwoman, charmingly
dressed, and mounted upon a spirited little white pony.
Switching a green branch, she came cantering toward me.
I looked round to see whether I could possibly be in Polynesia.
There were the palm-trees; but how to account for
the lady?
Stepping to one side, as the apparition drew near, I made a
polite obeisance. It gave me a bold, rosy look; and then, with
a gay air, patted its palfrey, crying out, “Fly away, Willie!”
and galloped among the trees.
I would have followed; but Willie's heels were making
such a pattering among the dry leaves, that pursuit would have
been useless.
So I went straight home to Po-Po's, and related my adventure
to the doctor.
The next day, our inquiries resulted in finding out, that the
stranger had been on the island about two years; that she came
from Sydney; and was the wife of Mr. Bell (happy dog!), the
proprietor of the sugar plantation, to which I have previously
referred.
To the sugar plantation we went, the same day.
The country round about was very beautiful: a level basin
of verdure, surrounded by sloping hillsides. The sugar-cane
—of which there was about one hundred acres, in various
stages of cultivation—looked thrifty. A considerable tract of
land, however, which seemed to have been formerly tilled,
was now abandoned.
The place where they extracted the saccharine matter, was
under an immense shed of bamboos. Here we saw several
clumsy pieces of machinery for breaking the cane; also great
kettles for boiling the sugar. But, at present, nothing was
going on. Two or three natives were lounging in one of the
kettles, smoking; the other was occupied by three sailors from
the Leviathan, playing cards.
While we were conversing with these worthies, a stranger
approached. He was a sun-burnt, romantic-looking European,
dressed in a loose suit of nankeen; his fine throat and chest
were exposed, and he sported a Guayaquil hat, with a brim like
a Chinese umbrella. This was Mr. Bell. He was very civil;
showed us the grounds, and, taking us into a sort of arbor, to
our surprise, offered to treat us to some wine. People often
do the like; but Mr. Bell did more: he produced the bottle.
It was spicy sherry; and we drank out of the halves of fresh
citron melons. Delectable goblets!
The wine was a purchase from the French in Tahiti.
Now all this was extremely polite in Mr. Bell; still, we
came to see Mrs. Bell. But she proved to be a phantom, indeed;
having left the same morning for Papeetee, on a visit to
one of the missionaries' wives there.
I went home, much chagrined.
To be frank, my curiosity had been wonderfully piqued
concerning the lady. In the first place, she was the most
beautiful white woman I ever saw in Polynesia. But this is
saying nothing. She had such eyes, such moss-roses in her
cheeks, such a divine air in the saddle, that, to my dying day,
I shall never forget Mrs. Bell.
The sugar-planter himself was young, robust, and handsome.
So, merrily may the little Bells increase, and multiply,
and make music in the Land of Imeeo.
