“Well, go on, Philip.”
“‘Indeed,’ said Mr Trevannion, in a great passion; ‘well, then, I will soon rid myself of the obligation. Call this afternoon, Master Philip, and you shall receive your wages. You may now quit the room.’
“I did so, and put my hat a-cock to annoy him.”
“So far his narrative is quite correct,” said Captain Levee;—“now go on.”
“Well,” said Philip, “instead of turning out of the house, I turned into it, and went to the young lady’s sitting-room. I opened the door softly, and found her with her hand up to her head, looking very sedate and sorrowful. ‘Master Philip,’ said she, ‘you startled me; I am glad to see you—when did you arrive?’
“‘This morning, Miss Trevannion.’
“‘Well, sit down and bear me company for a time. Have you seen your brother?’
“‘I have, Miss Trevannion,’ replied I, still remaining on my feet, ‘and I have just seen your father. I come now to bid you farewell. I have left the privateer, and shall never join her again; perhaps I may never see you again either, which, believe me, I am truly sorry for.’
“She covered her eyes with her hand, as she leant on the table, and I saw a tear fall as she said—‘It is a sad business altogether, and has distressed me very much. I hope your brother does not think that I blame him; tell him that I do not in the least, and that he must forget my behaviour to him when we parted. I did him injustice, and I beg his pardon. Tell him so, Philip.’”
“Did she say those words, Philip?”