Skipper Worse was a little embarrassed, and paced round the room. It was not easy to give an answer; he could not abide her meetings, but he was at a loss for a decent excuse.
At this moment Lauritz rose from his chair, and made as if he would take his departure.
"No, no, Lauritz!" cried the captain; "you can't leave yet. We must have a word or two together. Where are you bound?"
"I must go to the town and seek lodgings for the night," answered Lauritz, gloomily, but still a little emboldened by the cherry brandy he had drunk.
"What! aren't you going to lodge at Madame Torvestad's? Can't he, madame?"
"No," she replied drily. "You know that those who lodge with me are chiefly religious persons. I do not take in sailors."
"Yes; but your house has hitherto been like a home to Lauritz. It is hard for the poor lad on his return to find himself turned out into the street."
Worse now understood the young man's troubles, and, in his good nature, would willingly endeavour to help him. But Madame Torvestad made no response; she gathered up the folds of her cloak and prepared to depart.
"Well, good-bye, Captain Worse," said she; "I am heartily glad to welcome you home again. In half an hour or so I expect Sarah and a few friends from the meeting. Do you feel no inclination to join them, and to offer thanks to Him who has protected you in the tempest, and has brought you home unhurt over the stormy sea?"
"Yes, yes—of course, madame; you see—but—" and Jacob Worse stood and fidgeted about.