“Troth, maybe he’s not so bad as he looks,” muttered Judith to herself.
Britomarte studied him with more attention than before. It was strange, but he impressed the islanders in opposite ways; for while his appearance excited suspicion, his manners inspired confidence—except, perhaps, in the single instance of his bold stare at poor Judith.
“Will you——” began Justin, but before proceeding with his sentence he went up to Britomarte and spoke apart to her, asking her permission to invite these strangers to the grotto. She gave it readily; and then Justin stepped back to Captain Spear and said:
“Will you do us the honor to come up to our home and take lunch?”
“Thanks—willingly. I should like to see what sort of a home you have contrived to provide on this Desert Isle,” said the captain.
“And your boat’s crew? Can they not leave their boat to accompany us?”
“By no means! I will not so far trespass on your kindness or the young lady’s forbearance.”
“Oh!” said Britomarte, earnestly, “believe me that neither Mr. Rosenthal nor myself would consider it a trespass. It has been so long, so long, since we have seen any other human faces than our own, that we are more than delighted to welcome you and your whole crew.”
“Thanks, young lady. With your kind permission, then, I will call the men off.”
So saying, the captain walked a few paces toward the boat, and called: