“Come out into the moonlight where I can see you. I’m dreadfully proud of you, Nan, because you don’t take on like other girls. You see I couldn’t have stood it!” said Tom, in a frightfully uncertain state of mind, as to whether it was possible to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’m going now. Be good to mother, you know she’s—she’s not very strong—Have you told Captain Denin good-bye?”
“No, she hasn’t. Not yet. I thought I’d let you do it first; but you’ll tell me good-bye now, until I come back never to say it again, won’t you, Nanine?” said Luke, coming up in his most masterly way, right under Tom’s very nose, and almost hiding his sister from view in an embrace that this time was neither rough nor brotherly.
“Whew!” gasped Tom, as Hannah came in sight again, with no friendly honeysuckle near to conceal the carnation bloom upon her cheeks. “Is that the way the wind blows! I’ve been as blind as a bat. Kiss me, quick, both of you, or I’m a gone case!”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort. Sit down on the stone there, and recover yourself. You’ve said your good-bye, now just wait for me!” said the superior officer triumphantly. And Tom, spent, exhausted, sank down; but the next instant Hannah had her arms tight about his neck, and was hiding her face against the crisp waves of his black hair.
“Tom, dear, you ain’t sorry?”
“No, Nan, I couldn’t have wished for any thing better; but it was so sudden, it just kind of knocked the wind out of my sails for a minute.” Then, after a pause,—“I say, there’ll be a grand glorification when the Nereid comes back, won’t there?”
“Yes.”
“I—I wish it was back now! I don’t know what’s upset me so—There, kiss her, Luke, and let’s be off, quick, or I’ll disgrace myself outright, before I know it!” and Tom, gulping down great quantities of air with all his might, got up from the stone hurriedly, as if he meditated making a sudden bolt.
But he did not. He stood there quietly looking out at sea; and when, a moment after, the young captain, taking his arm, said, “Come, now I am ready,” he started as from a dream. Turning to his sister, with every trace of his rollicking manner lost, he said, as though he had not spoken of her before,—
“You must take good care of mother—poor mother. Do not let her grieve while I am gone. Oh, Hannah, you will be very careful of her, and not allow any thing—not allow her to get tired, and tell her always, while she waits, that when I am with her again, I will never leave her.”