It was a moment of suspense. The entrance of tea enabled them to hide their emotions; and, by occasioning a change of seats, brought the captain close to Blanche.
"How imprudent you are!" he whispered. "Accept my offer of a walk, and he shall accompany us; when we are out of sight, I will leave you; but by all three going out together, no suspicion will be raised."
Blanche trembled and blushed, but made no answer. The discovery of her last night's interview was implied in what he said; and with that was implied this other fact, which then for the first time flashed across her mind: Captain Heath loved her. It was his sob which had startled them.
If, amidst her compassion for his unhappy love, there was mixed some secret gratification at having excited that passion, no one will speak harshly of her; it would be too much to expect human nature should be insensible to the flattery of affection. But flattered as she was by the discovery, she was also sensible of the noble delicacy of his conduct in the matter; and when she raised her humid eyes to look her thanks, it was with a severe pang that she noticed the alteration in his appearance. One night had added ten years to his age.
"Miss Blanche and I are going to stroll out and enjoy the harvest moon," said Captain Heath about half an hour afterwards to Cecil, "will you join us?"
Cecil looked amazed, and felt inclined to throw him out of the window for his proposition, but Blanche made a sign to him to accept, and he accepted.
"And I suppose I am not to come?" said Rose.
"Certainly—if you like," replied the captain.
"No, you may go without me. Three is company, and two is none," she said, parodying the popular phrase, "and if I came, we should be two and two."
The captain did not press the matter, but offering Blanche his arm led her out, followed by Cecil, somewhat sulky, and not at all comprehending the affair.