This note she took down to the dining-room with her, and barely had a chance to press it into Loria's palm as he bade her, with the others, a rather formal farewell.
The Marchese was not one of those who went out to the yacht to see the last of the beautiful American girl and her party. Virginia had definitely refused him now, and the old, pleasant intimacy had been brought to a sudden end. Nevertheless, he sent her flowers—a great basket of roses big enough to fill up half of her stateroom on the Bella Cuba—which she promptly gave to Kate, with various other elaborate offerings, keeping for her own cabin only a small bunch of fragrant violets sent by some one whose name she seemed to guess, although there was no card.
So, at last, they were off; and no sad-faced girl in black had appeared. Besides the original party of four, there was only a little dark, keen-eyed English doctor, taken from his practice in Mentone. He looked like a man who would know how to keep a secret, and Kate wondered whether the mystery of the Bella Cuba were a mystery to Dr. Grayle.
"Miss Dalahaide will come on board at Naples," Kate said to herself when it became certain that they would stop there. "She is well known in Mentone, no doubt, and didn't wish it to leak out that she was going on this yachting trip."
But they arrived at Naples, sent off telegrams and letters, coaled, and left without taking on another passenger. Always it seemed to Kate that Virginia's manner showed suppressed nervous excitement. She was restless, capricious, took an interest in nothing for more than ten minutes together. She had never been to Naples before, yet she appeared to grudge the two or three hours they spent in driving about, and would not listen to Kate's suggestion that they should stop long enough for a visit to Pompeii.
"Next time," she said evasively. Altogether, she had not at all the air of a young woman yachting for pleasure, as of course she must be, since what other object could the trip have? "I am in a hurry to see Cairo," she replied, when Lady Gardiner inquired the reason of her impatience.
After all, they did not touch at Greece, but went straight on to Alexandria, the sea being so calmly unruffled that even Kate had no excuse for illness. She might have been very happy in these long, lazy, blue-and-gold days, if George Trent had been his old self. But the frost which had withered the flower of his fancy for her that day in the Valley of the Shadow, had never thawed. He read and smoked a great deal, leaving Roger Broom to amuse Virginia and Lady Gardiner.
Something went wrong with the engine the morning when they expected to reach Alexandria and Kate heard talk of a "heated bearing on the crankshaft," which might have to be taken off, thus delaying them a couple of days. "But a couple of days!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Surely you mean to stop longer than that!"
"We hadn't thought of it," answered Roger drily.
"Are you going up the Nile then?"