Mary Liddiard | Page 6

her form. Having finished the labours of the day (for although of high rank, she was compelled, like others, to work for her support), she was seated on a mat, with a book open on her knees, from which she was endeavouring to read. Not having long been a convert, she had as yet made but little progress in her studies. She affectionately welcomed her niece and me as we took our seats near her. Lisele then eagerly poured forth what she had been hearing, so rapidly, that I could scarcely follow her.
"It is all true," said Abela, when her niece at length ceased speaking. "I praise Jehovah that you know it."
When, however, Lisele told her of her wish to go back to her father, Abela hesitated. "He will not understand you, my child," she exclaimed, "and perhaps will not allow you to return to people whom he may think so foolish."
"Oh, but I'll pray for him," answered Lisele. "I'll ask Jehovah to help me, and I know He will hear me, so I shall not have to trust to my own strength."
Abela remained silent for some time, and I saw that she was engaged in prayer.
"You shall go, my child," she said at length. "Jehovah will take care of you, and may He prosper your undertaking."
Delighted at having obtained this permission, Lisele returned to spend the evening with us, for my father wished to have an opportunity of speaking to her. He warned her of the opposition she must expect to meet with from her people, and of the dangers she would have to encounter, especially as he knew that she had been sought in marriage by a young heathen chief, who might wish to detain her.
"But now I know the truth. I will never consent to marry one who is a heathen," she answered. "And I do not intend to remain. I will only try to persuade my father to visit you, and then I will return."
Lisele set off the next day, accompanied by two Christian people of her tribe, who promised to protect her from the heathens, and aid her return should it be opposed, even although they might risk their lives in so doing. We were very sorry to lose her, as we feared that efforts would be made to prevent her returning among us.
Maud could not restrain her tears. "I know too well how cruelly these heathens can act," she said. "They will not hesitate to carry her off to some distant island, whence she cannot possibly escape; or, if she offends them by what she says, they may even kill her." Dear Maud had indeed had bitter experience of the barbarities often committed by the savage islanders.
My father had for some years been a missionary in another part of the Pacific, when it was settled that he should occupy the Station where we now were. I was too young at the time to remember much about what occurred, so I can describe only what I have heard. As there was then no missionary vessel to convey us, we embarked on board a whaler, the Christian captain of which undertook to carry us to our destination. He was, however, unable to make a direct passage, as he had in the prosecution of his business first to visit several other places, still, as no other means of getting where we wished to go were likely to occur, my father was glad to embrace the opportunity thus offered. We had been for some time at sea when a fearful storm arose, which compelled us to run before it under bare poles, and carried us a long way out of our course. The vessel received also considerable damage, losing one of her masts and several spars. At length a beautiful island appeared in sight, covered thickly with trees, and directly ahead was seen a commodious harbour. The captain therefore ran into it and came to an anchor, that the damages which the vessel had received might be repaired. He soon found that it was inhabited by numerous savages, who pushed off in their canoes to visit the strange ship. He, however, had so long been acquainted with the treacherous character of the natives of most of the Pacific islands, that he would allow no one to come on board, and he had also boarding-nettings triced up to guard against any sudden attack they might venture to make. We had on board a Sandwich islander, who managed to make himself understood by the natives. Through his means our good captain let them know that he wished to cut down some trees, and that he was ready to pay for permission to do so. The captain then inquired for their chief, and said that if he would come off and