“Not very,” was the reply.
“Ah well, there’s no fear of our catching cold pulling like this.”
“Not the slightest,” said Leslie coldly; then there was another period of silence, during which the water seemed to patter and slap the bows of the boat, while the panorama of rock and foam and glittering cascade, as the crags were bathed by the Atlantic swell, and it fell back broken, seemed perfectly fresh and new as seen from another point of view.
At last Harry, after trying two or three times more to start a conversation, said shortly—
“Well, this is my last day at home, and I think I ought to say, ‘Thank goodness!’ This is coming out for a pleasant sail, and having to row back like a galley-slave! Oh, I beg your pardon, ladies! All my mistake. I am highly complimented. All this glumminess is because I am going away.”
He received such a look of reproach that he uttered an angry ejaculation and began to pull so hard that Leslie had to second his movement to keep the boat’s head straight for the harbour, whose farther point soon after came in sight, with two figures on the rocks at the end.
“Papa along with Uncle Luke,” said Louise softly.
“Eh?” said Harry sharply; “the old man still fishing?”
“Yes,” said Louise rather coldly; “and, Maddy, dear, is not that Mr Van Heldre?”
Madelaine shaded her eyes from the western sun, where it was sinking fast, and nodded.