"I shall be very pleased to see you on board the yacht."
"Thank you, Mrs. Wilders; I am sure you will. But to me such a visit would be very painful. My last recollections of the Arcadia are not too agreeable."
"Of course not. You were so devoted to my poor dear husband."
Mrs. Wilders would not acknowledge his meaning.
"But I shall see you again before I leave, I trust."
"My stay here is very short. I am only on a special mission, and I must return to the Crimea without delay. But we shall certainly meet again some day, Mrs. Wilders; you may rely on that."
There was meaning, menace even, in this last speech, and it gave Mrs. Wilders food for serious thought.
McKay did not pause to say more. He was too eager to go elsewhere.
His first visit, as in duty bound, had been to report his arrival and set on foot the business that had brought him. His second was to see sweet Mariquita, the girl of his choice.
They had exchanged several letters. His had been brief, hurried accounts of his doings, assuring her of his safety after every action and of his unalterable affection; hers were the artless outpourings of a warm, passionate nature tortured by ever-present heartrending anxiety for the man she loved best in the world. There had been no time to warn her of his visit to Gibraltar, and his appearance was entirely unexpected there.