Page 571 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

The doctor lowered his head. He could follow her silent
thought. Was it for this that her life had been robbed of all
the intimate felicities of daily affection which her tender-
ness needed as the human body needs air to breathe? And
the doctor, indignant with Charles Gould’s blindness, has-
tened to change the conversation.
‘It is about Nostromo that I wanted to talk to you. Ah!
that fellow has some continuity and force. Nothing will put
an end to him. But never mind that. There’s something in-
explicable going on—or perhaps only too easy to explain.
You know, Linda is practically the lighthouse keeper of the
Great Isabel light. The Garibaldino is too old now. His part
is to clean the lamps and to cook in the house; but he can’t
get up the stairs any longer. The black-eyed Linda sleeps all
day and watches the light all night. Not all day, though. She
is up towards five in the afternoon, when our Nostromo,
whenever he is in harbour with his schooner, comes out on
his courting visit, pulling in a small boat.’
‘Aren’t they married yet?’ Mrs. Gould asked. ‘The mother
wished it, as far as I can understand, while Linda was yet
quite a child. When I had the girls with me for a year or
so during the War of Separation, that extraordinary Linda
used to declare quite simply that she was going to be Gian’
Battista’s wife.’
‘They are not married yet,’ said the doctor, curtly. ‘I have
looked after them a little.’
‘Thank you, dear Dr. Monygham,’ said Mrs. Gould;
and under the shade of the big trees her little, even teeth
gleamed in a youthful smile of gentle malice. ‘People don’t

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