“And what is to become of me?” observed McElvina, gravely.
“Oh, I don’t know; you are the best judge of that.”
“Well, then, I will confess to you, Susan, that I am just as well pleased that all this has taken place as you are; for I am not sorry to give up a profession respecting which, between ourselves, I have lately had many scruples of conscience. I have not saved much, it is true; but I have enough to live upon, as long as I have no one to take care of except myself.”
“You raise yourself in my opinion by saying so,” replied Susan; “although it is painful to me to condemn a practice which impeaches my father. Your courage and talents may be better applied. Thank God, that it is all over.”
“But, Susan, you said that you hoped to have better health. Have you not been well?”
“Not very ill,” replied Susan; “but I have had a good deal of anxiety. The loss of the vessel,—your capture,—has affected my father, and, of course, has worried me.”
The discourse was now interrupted by old Hornblow, who had returned home to his dinner. He received McElvina in the most friendly manner, and they sat down to table.
After dinner, McElvina entered into a minute detail of all that had occurred, and, as far as he was concerned, with a modesty which enhanced his meritorious conduct.
Susan listened to the narrative with intense interest; and as soon as it was over, retired to her room, leaving old Hornblow and McElvina over their bottle.
“Well, McElvina, what do you mean to do with yourself?” said the old man. “You know that Susan has at last persuaded me into retiring from business. I have just concluded the purchase of a little property near the seaside, about seven miles from the village of — in Norfolk—it adjoins the great Rainscourt estate. You know that part of the coast.”