Nan alone did not so understand it; and in exceptional circumstances already set forth, her father was the next to relinquish an idea which he had cherished as much as anybody. Devenish, however, was naturally no prey to the sentiment to which he attributed his reverse in one quarter and its acceptance in the other. He had never regarded it as a defeat, and he was certainly not the man to do so as he saw the last of Denis against an Australian sky from the Memnon's poop. On the contrary, the gallant Ralph had never been nearly so much in love as with the ardent and disheveled girl, nobly careless of appearances, who wept and waved within a few feet of him until the last.
His tact, however, was not equal to his passion, and it was a breach of tact that sent Ralph Devenish ashore with the pilot.
"Ah, well!" he had said at last. "He has the best of it, after all!"
"What do you mean?" cried Nan, as she turned on him with fiery tears, but not one in her voice.
"He has all the fun of the fair," replied Devenish, lightly. "They say it's the biggest fair ever held on earth."
"You mean the gold-fields, I suppose?"
"Yes. I shouldn't blame him for wanting to have his fling on them."
"I don't understand you," said the girl, very coldly. "Pray who is blaming him?"
"Well, Dent is rather in Mr. Merridew's bad books for insisting on staying out, you know; and I thought he might be in yours, too."
"Did you, indeed! Then let me tell you I am proud of him—for what he has done, and for what he's going to do. But if he were here now, standing in your shoes, though I would give anything to have him here, I should still be ashamed of him in my heart!"