“I must join my ship at New York on the fourth of January. I must leave here on the second.”
“The day after New Year’s Day. That is very sudden.”
“Yes; and I do regret it. If I had known—if I could have foreseen events—I should have carried out my first intentions, and resigned from the service, instead of applying for sailing orders; but now that I have applied, and have received them, I must go, much as I regret to do so. I must not seem to trifle with the department or shirk my duty.”
“Certainly not, lad. And, under present circumstances, perhaps it is best that you go. You and Odalite are young, lad, and can well afford to wait a little longer. When you return from your voyage, Le, the disgraceful drama which has been enacted by this man Anglesea will have been forgotten. Odalite will have long recovered the shock to her spirit, and will be in a better condition to listen to a proposal from you, which it would be indiscreet, to say the least, for you to make her at present.”
“I see that, sir; I feel it; and that reconciles me to the idea of going to sea again. The utmost favor I plead for now is that you will permit me to see Odalite, to have a private interview with her. I shall not wound her by hinting at the hope hidden in the bottom of my heart—the hope of winning her hand some day; but I wish to ask her to correspond with me during my absence, as with a trusted relation or a true brother. Do you think, sir, that there can be any objection to my making such a request of my cousin?”
“None whatever, my dear boy. You have my fullest approval of your course, and my warmest wishes for your success.”
“Thank you, Uncle Abel.”
“And we will yet hope that the dream of your love and of my ambition may be fulfilled in the union of yourself and Odalite in a happy marriage, and the consolidation of Mondreer and Greenbushes in one great manor.”
“May Heaven grant it, Uncle Abel!”
“But, my boy, I wish you to speak to Odalite’s mother also on this subject. She must be taken into our counsels.”