Indifferent to his danger he was waiting for her.

It was for her only that he had come; and now as the time approached when he should have his reward, she asked herself with dismay what meant that chilling doubt of her own will and of her own desire?
With an effort she shook off the fear of the passing weakness.

He should have his reward.

Her woman's love and her woman's honour overcame the faltering distrust of that unknown future waiting for her in the darkness of the river.
"No, you will not return," muttered Mrs.Almayer, prophetically.
"Without you he will not go, and if he remains here--" She waved her hand towards the lights of "Almayer's Folly," and the unfinished sentence died out in a threatening murmur.
The two women had met behind the house, and now were walking slowly together towards the creek where all the canoes were moored.

Arrived at the fringe of bushes they stopped by a common impulse, and Mrs.Almayer, laying her hand on her daughter's arm, tried in vain to look close into the girl's averted face.