“And I suppose ye had na the vessel insured?” said Sir Andrew, at the close of the narrative; “what a sair thing to think o'!”
“Oh, dear, yes, to be sure!” ejaculated Meek, piteously; “and the cold, and the wetting, and the rest of it! for of course you must have met few comforts in that miserable fishing-hut.”
“How picturesque it must have been,” interposed Mrs. White; “and what a pity you had no means of having a drawing made of it. The scene at the moment of the yacht striking; the despair-struck seamen—”
“Pardon me, madam, for destroying even a particle of so ingenious a fancy; but the men evinced nothing of the kind,—they behaved well, and with the calmest steadiness.”
“It is scarcely too late yet,” resumed the lady, unabashed; “if you would just describe it all carefully to Mr. Howie, he could made a sketch in oils one would swear was taken on the spot.”
“Quite impossible,—out of the question,” said Howie, who was always ashamed at the absurdities which compromised himself, although keenly alive to those which involved his neighbors.
“We have heard much of Lady Kilgoff's courage and presence of mind,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck, returning to a theme by which she calculated on exploring into Cashel's sentiments towards that lady. “Were they indeed so conspicuous?”
“Can you doubt it, madam?” said Lady Janet, tartly; “she gave the most unequivocal proof of both,—she remembered her husband!”
The tartness of this impertinent speech was infinitely increased by the voice and manner of the speaker, and a half-suppressed titter ran through the room, Cashel alone, of all, feeling annoyed and angry. Aunt Fanny, always less occupied with herself than her neighbors, quickly saw his irritation, and resolved to change a topic which more than once had verged on danger.
“And now, Mr. Cashel,” said she, “let us not forget the pledge on which we admitted you.”