“And mine, too,” said Lord B—, rising up.
Pickersgill passed the back of his hand across his eyes, turned round, and left the cabin.
“I’m so happy!” said Mrs Lascelles, bursting into tears.
“He’s a magnificent fellow,” observed Lord B—. “Come, let us all go on deck.”
“You have not seen my aunt, papa.”
“True; I’ll go in to her, and then follow you.”
The ladies went upon deck. Cecilia entered into conversation with Mr Stewart, giving him a narrative of what had happened. Mrs Lascelles sat abaft at the taffrail, with her pretty hand supporting her cheek, looking very much à la Juliette.
“Mrs Lascelles,” said Pickersgill, “before we part, allow me to observe, that it is you who have induced me to give up my profession—”
“Why me, Mr Pickersgill?”
“You said that you did not like it.”