“Don’t speak angrily to mamma,” whispered Julia; and the old man’s countenance became wholly sunny again.
“No, no,” he said; “but you two must leave matters to Mr Bayle and me. We are acting for the best, my child. You cannot conceive what it would have been to let you go out as your mother proposed. It was madness!”
“It is for Julie’s sake,” Mrs Hallam said to herself, when she consented to various little arrangements, though she shivered at the thought of being brought face to face with her fellow-passengers.
“Indeed, we are acting with all the foresight we can bring to bear,” Bayle said, in answer to another remonstrance made in the hurry and bustle of preparation.
“Yes,” she replied; “but you are doing too much. You make me tremble for the consequence.”
Bayle smiled, and bade her take comfort. He was present with her almost daily, to report little matters that he had arranged for her as to money and baggage. Since he had accompanied her and Julia back to town he had been indefatigable, working with the most cheery good-humour, and smiling as he reported the success of the furniture sale; how capitally he had managed about the little investments of the wreck of Mrs Hallam’s money; and how he had obtained letters of credit for her at the Colonial Bank.
Julia watched Bayle’s countenance day by day with a curious, wistful look, that would at times be pitiful, at other times full of resentment; and one day she turned to the doctor—the old gentleman and Mrs Luttrell having insisted upon coming to town, and following their child to Portsmouth, where they were to embark.
“I believe, grandpa,” she said half angrily, “that Mr Bayle is tired of us, and that he is glad to get us off his hands.”
“Nothing would ever tire Mr Bayle, my dear,” said Mrs Luttrell reprovingly.
Julia turned to her quickly and put her arms round the old lady’s neck, the tears in her eyes brimming over.