The Conqueror

XIII

They sailed over to Nevis, ac­com­pa­nied by a dozen slaves, and took pos­ses­sion of Rachael's house in Main Street. It stood at the very end of the town, be­yond the point where the street ceased and the road round the Is­land be­gan. The high wall of the gar­den sur­round­ed a grove of palms and co­coanut trees. On­ly so­journ­ers from Eng­land had oc­cu­pied the big com­fort­able house, and it was in good re­pair.

When the acute stage of her grief had passed, it was idle for Rachael to de­ny to Hamil­ton that she was hap­py. And at that time she had not a care in the world, nor had he. Their com­bined in­comes made them as care­less of mon­ey as any planter on the Is­land. Ev­ery ship from Eng­land brought them books and mu­sic, and Hamil­ton was not on­ly the im­pas­sioned lover but the ten­der­est and most pa­tient of hus­bands. Coach­es dashed by and the oc­cu­pants cast up eyes and hands. The gay life of Nevis pulsed un­heed­ed about the high walls, whose gates were al­ways locked. The kins­man of the lead­ing fam­ilies of the Is­land and the most beau­ti­ful daugh­ter of old John and Mary Fawcett were a con­stant and ag­itat­ing theme, but two peo­ple lived their life of se­clud­ed and poignant hap­pi­ness, and took Nevis or St. Kitts in­to lit­tle ac­count.