And Dulcie liked and respected him the more for this confession. It seemed to make a fresh link between them.
Miss Martin watched them as they paced to and fro upon the long deck at such times as they were not ashore; and sometimes a sparkle would come into her eyes as she observed the way in which Mr. Carlyon's glance would dwell upon Dulcie's bright face.
"It looks to me very much like——And really I should not be sorry. Poor child! she is so much alone in the world; and I can do nothing for her. All my money goes to Arabella and her brothers—that's the worst of being an unmarried woman; one has no control over one's money; if I had, I would have made a little provision for the child. She is a good little thing. But I don't think Janet will be best pleased. Arabella, with all her good looks, does not go off. As I tell Janet, it is her temper—she has been so spoiled. Everybody can see it; she is absolutely selfish. I did begin to think that Mr. Carlyon was attracted; but I suspect now the attraction was in another direction. Well, I only hope there won't be a terrible rumpus when they get back. They were reckoning, I know, on this trip. They meant to make him their special escort; and when they learn what has really happened! Well, they can't bully him, that is one comfort; and I'll try to protect Dulcie. But Arabella is a minx when her blood is up; and Janet knows how to make me afraid. It's ridiculous to be afraid of one's sister; but sometimes I am."
Just about sunset that evening the shore became black with hurrying forms, and the harbour was crowded with boats. The Granada party was returning to the Auguste-Victoria, to the strains of "Home, Sweet Home" played by the band; and Mr. Carlyon with Dulcie stood laughingly watching the embarkation of the weary, travel-stained tourists.
"I expect they have only enjoyed it very moderately; Granada would be bitterly cold at this season, April or May is the time to see it. Ah! here comes your party! They don't look very happy in their minds. I'm not sure, after all, Miss Dulcie, that we unenterprising people haven't had the best of it!"
"I have had a perfectly lovely time!" cried Dulcie with one of her sweet, direct glances; "you have been so kind to me!"
Arabella swept fiercely past, carrying Dulcie with her.—p. 324.
His face lighted; it was such a kind one when it did, though it could be stern, too, on occasion.
"And you must see Granada another time—at the right season."