“No,” said Julia; “I must watch the shore till it is dark. Not yet, not yet. Mother, I thought Sir Gordon liked us—was a very, very great friend?”
“He is; he always has been.”
“But he parted from us as if it was only for a day or two. He did not seem troubled in the least.”
Mrs Hallam was silent.
“And Mr Bayle, mother—he quite checked me. I was so grieved, and felt in such despair at parting from him till he stood holding my hands. I wanted to throw my arms round his neck, and let him hold me to his breast, as he used years ago; but when I looked up in his face, he seemed so calm and cheerful, and he just smiled down at me, and it made me angry. Mamma, dear, men have no feeling at all.”
“I think Mr Bayle feels our going deeply,” replied Mrs Hallam, quietly.
“He did not seem to,” said Julia pettishly.
“A man cannot show his sorrow as a woman may, my child,” said Mrs Hallam, with a sigh.
She gazed back at the land that seemed to be growing more dim, minute by minute, as the great ship careened over to the press of sail, and sped on down Channel.
A wistful look came into the mother’s eyes, as she thought of her child’s words. In spite of resolutions and promises, the parting from the old people had been most painful; but, throughout all, there had seemed to her to be a curious indifference to her going, on the part of Bayle. He had been incessant in his attentions; a hundred little acts had been performed that were likely to make their stay on shipboard more pleasant; but there was a something wanting—a something she had felt deeply, and the pain became the more acute since she found that her feelings were shared.