“Nonsense! they don’t want your apologies and explanations. It would only be besetting them. Come home with me, and don’t be a fool! But write a few lines to your poor mother, after the intolerable fright you have given her; meddling and presuming where you had no business. A Providence it is that you are not half across the Atlantic, if not at the bottom of it.”
Of course this was the reaction of great anxiety; but however meekly Hubert submitted to the queer outpouring of affection, and however thankful they both were, and glad and content over the particulars of the youth’s work and progress, still he was not to be withheld from laying hand and heart at Vera Prescott’s feet, as he insisted was due to her and her family after the compromising situation in which he had placed her. His father said it was talking novels and folly; but he was a man of three and twenty, and could not well be stopped, as he was earning his own livelihood, and had always been irreproachable. So Mr. Delrio had to leave the matter, only expressing discouragement, and insisting that it must be no more than an engagement.
The thanksgiving took place as arranged, and Lord Rotherwood, his daughter, and Mysie were there. For indeed there had been danger enough during the thunderstorm to make the safety of the Kittiwake a matter of thankfulness, though the rescue of the boat had caused it to be almost forgotten in the history of the night.
Lady Flight had begged that all would come to breakfast with her, and this was accepted by the Goyle party; but the Clipstone pony-carriage was waiting for the others, and they could not accede to Lady Flight’s impromptu, and rather nervous, invitation. But before they started Lord Rotherwood managed to say a few words aside to Miss Prescott of the impression he had divined from his voyage with Hubert Delrio, whom he thought a young man of great ability and promise, and of excellent principles, but with a chivalry it was quite refreshing to see in youth, perhaps ready to strain honourable scruples almost too far for his own good or that of others.
Magdalen thought she perceived what had been in the marquis’s mind when, immediately after her return home, Hubert and Vera came up, hand in hand, and he informed her of their mutual attachment.
“I am afraid, Miss Prescott,” he said, “that we may not have acted rightly or squarely by you; and this last adventure was a most unhappy result of my careless awkwardness and preoccupation.”
“It was the merest accident. We all quite understand. It is not to be thought of.”
“You are very good to say so, but—”
Both he and Magdalen wished that Vera had not been present, blushing and smiling, or rather simpering; and as Hubert hesitated over his “but,” Magdalen said:
“Vera, my dear, Hubert and I can talk over this better without you. You had better go and find Paula.”