"And that you have noticed yourself?" said the captain, with ill-concealed eagerness—"you who have so many better opportunities of observing him in the society which you so much adorn."
"Yes," said Lady Lackland, "I think perhaps that he is a flirt. He would be a very eligible young man if he were a little more steadfast; but one cannot put old heads on young shoulders, Captain Murpoint."
"No, no," said the captain. And with a delicate emphasis he shook hands and took his leave, repeating to himself Lady Lackland's reply as he went. It was not a very important one; but we shall see how by deftly twisting and turning it Captain Murpoint effected a great deal with it.
As the captain rode home the storm gathered and broke upon him.
The wind nearly blew him from his horse and the rain saturated him.
At the Park he found the servants in a state of confusion and alarm, and learned that the ladies had not yet come home.
Without dismounting he galloped down the steep hill to the beach, which presented a picturesque scene enough, but a sufficiently significant one.
Just within reach of the spray stood a small crowd composed of the fishermen and their wives and children and the principal part of the village.
Lower down, and seemingly in the foremost waves themselves, were Willie Sanderson and two or three of his mates, vainly endeavoring to launch one of the boats.
By their side, in close and agitated conversation with Mr. Starling, was Jemmie, Sanderson's lame brother.