It was with this object, then, that Sickleton sat, pen in hand, making notes of Cashel's directions, and from time to time writing at his dictation to various tradesmen whose services he stood in need of. It would certainly have called for a clearer head, and a calmer than Roland's, to have conducted the conversation with the lady and the command to the gentleman, who sat at either side of him. Many a sad blunder did he make, and more than once did the reply intended for her Ladyship find its way into the epistle of the lieutenant, nor did the mistake appear till a reading of the document announced it. At these, a burst of laughter was sure to break forth, and then my Lord would look up, and, passing his fingers across his temples, seem trying to recall his lost and wandering faculties—efforts that the changeful play of his features showed to be alternately failing and succeeding, as reason, tide-like, ebbed and flowed within his brain.
It was as Sickleton wrote down at Cashel's direction the order for a considerable sum of money to be distributed among the crew of the yacht, that Lord Kilgoff, catching as it were in a momentary lucidness the meaning of the words, said aloud, “This is not munificence, sir. I tell you this is the wasteful extravagance of the buccaneer, not the generosity of a true gentleman.”
The other suddenly started at the words, and while Lady Kilgoff's deep flush of passion and Cashel's look of astonishment exhibited their feelings, Sickleton's hearty laugh showed the racy enjoyment deficient delicacy can always reap from an awkward dilemma.
“But, my Lord, you mistake Mr. Cashel,” said Lady Kilgoff, eagerly bending forward as she spoke. “His noble gift is to compensate these brave fellows for a loss, as well as reward them for an act of devotion.—How silly in me to reason with him! see, Mr. Cashel, his mind is quite shaken by this calamity.”
“Your defence compensates a hundred such reproofs,” said Cashel, with warmth. “Well, Mr. Sickleton,” said he, anxious to quit a painful topic, “what of this schooner yacht you spoke of awhile ago?”
“The handsomest craft that ever swam,” said the lieutenant, delighted to discuss a favorite theme. “Lord Wellingham has married, and they say won't keep her any longer. You 'll get her for ten thousand, and the story is she cost about fourteen.”
“But perhaps Mr. Cashel may soon follow her noble owner's example,” said Lady Kilgoff, smiling, and with a subdued look towards Roland.
“Don't give him bad counsel, my Lady.”
“It really does seem to me a kind of inveteracy thus to talk of buying a new yacht within a few hours after losing one.”
“Like a widower looking out for a new wife, I suppose,” said the lieutenant, laughing.