“You and—Colonel Eastworth,” muttered Britomarte, slowly and in dismay. “Erminie, darling, it is customary to congratulate a friend on these occasions; but I—I cannot do it.”
“Oh, Britomarte! you will surely wish me joy!”
“With all my heart and soul, I pray you may have lifelong happiness, my dearest one!” said Miss Conyers, with a quivering voice.
“My dears, my dears, are you ready to go on shore?” called Dr. Rosenthal from the head of the cabin stairs.
“Yes, papa dear!—Oh, dear Britomarte, think again! come home with me!” pleaded Erminie.
“No, my darling! We must part here. Give me your parting kiss in this cabin, not on deck before all the men,” said Miss Conyers.
Erminie threw herself into the arms of Britomarte, and clung long and wildly to her bosom, until a second and a third summons from Dr. Rosenthal compelled her to let go her hold.
Then the two friends went up the stairs together.
The three gentlemen were waiting to escort them on shore.
Dr. Rosenthal placed his daughter in the carriage that was waiting for her; but when he would have led Britomarte to the same place, she courteously thanked him, and said that her way lay in another direction, and that she would go on foot.