“Can I get you anything, sir?—we have three peaches aboard and a pine-apple,” he murmured.
“Can't touch anything now, Robinson,” Mr. Glaston answered.
“The doctor is right,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have no appetite, Mr. Glaston.”
“No,” he replied; “not now,” and he gave the least glance towards the girl in pink, who began to feel that all her school dreams of going forth into the world of men to conquer and overcome were being realised beyond her wildest anticipations.
Then there was a pause at the table, which the good major broke by suddenly inquiring something of the captain. Mr. Glaston, however, sat silent, and somewhat sad apparently, until the breakfast was over.
Daireen went into her cabin for a book, and remained arranging some volumes on the little shelf for a few minutes. Mr. Glaston was on deck when she ascended, and he was engaged in a very serious conversation with Mrs. Crawford.
“Something must be done. Surely she has a guardian aboard who is not so utterly lost to everything of truth and right as to allow that to go on unchecked.”
These words Daireen could make out as she passed the young man and the major's wife, and the girl began to fear that something terrible was about to happen. But Mr. Harwood, who was standing above the major's chair, hastened forward as she appeared.
“Why, Major Crawford has been telling me that your father is Colonel Gerald,” he said. “Mrs. Crawford never mentioned that fact, thinking that I should be able to guess it for myself.”
“Did you know papa?” Daireen asked.