The little episode of the "wash-out" had no immediate results beyond the exhibition of two mattresses, and several blankets hung out to dry, and Nancy's acquaintance with Mrs. De Wolfe went no further. She shrank more and more into solitude and silence, and gave way to the gnawing misery and loneliness of her heart—plunged in the agony of a terrible loss, she was left to struggle in it quite alone.
One morning Mrs. De Wolfe encountered her face to face, at the top of the companion ladder, nodded brusquely, and stared. The girl's face subsequently haunted her. Oh, what a picture of real grief,—and nothing but grief! Impressed by this vision, she proceeded to make inquiries respecting the solitary young woman in mourning. Mrs. Sandilands (a notable chatterbox) volubly related the tale of tragedy, dwelt on Nancy's adoration for her father, their ideally happy life, his death,—and her altered fortune.
"Nancy has no one belonging to her, except a disagreeable aunt," she said, "a half-sister, who has been at daggers drawn with Mr. Travers for twenty years; however she has offered what she calls 'an asylum' to the girl, until she can find some job."
Mrs. De Wolfe nodded and grunted; she also marked, learned and inwardly digested this information.
A grand fancy ball was got up on board the Patna, in order to inaugurate her entrance into the Red Sea; the preparations, arrangements and expedients, afforded almost as much enjoyment as the dance itself. Such were its attractions, that Mrs. De Wolfe's special Bridge table was ruthlessly dissolved. One of the keenest players was appearing as Neptune, another as Mephistopheles, a stout, middle-aged lady as Ophelia. Mrs. De Wolfe made no change in her plain rich evening toilet—though more than one malicious tongue had suggested that "she might get herself up as the Witch of Endor."
Tired of looking on at the whirling crowd, she went on deck, and having descried a solitary figure leaning over the side, approached it stealthily and, so to speak, pounced!
"No, don't go away, little sick chick!" she said, laying her bony grasp on Nancy's arm. "Come over here, and talk to me," and Nancy was carried away a helpless prisoner, to where two deck-chairs happened to be placed close together. "You're not looking on?"
Nancy shook her head.
"No, I'm told you have had great trouble—and I'm very sorry for you."
"Thank you," said the girl stiffly.