During the evening Dolly strolled casually from the camp and the society
of the fuming Charley, and disappeared. Tom had quite a trousseau, new
and bright, for his sweetheart, when she clambered on board, naked, wet,
and with shining eyes. Next morning Charley tracked her along the beach.
An old and soiled dress--his gift--on a little promontory of rocks about a
mile from the anchorage of the schooner completed the love-story.
This intrigue took place many years ago, but Charley was so deeply
mortified that he hates Tom to this day, and Tom is an uncomfortable
fellow for anyone disposed to resentfulness.
We know, because he says so, that Tom fought for her, and that Nelly
gladly accepted the protection of the staunchest man of the district.
Tom, in his surly moments, is exquisitely cruel; but Nelly's devotion is
unaffected. Her vanity led her to flaunt her gaudy hat in the hut. Tom
reproved such flashness--he invariably selects the gayest shirts
himself--by burning the hat and all the newly-acquired finery. Nelly
struck back, and Tom, as her eyes were big and ablaze with fury, threw--at
the cost of burnt fingers--a handful of hot sand and ashes into her
face.
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