The girl’s face grew crimson, and her eyes flashed a look of resentment as she rose quickly to her feet.
“No, no! don’t go, my dear,” he cried; but it was too late even if the words could have stayed her. Julia was walking swiftly away, and Lieutenant Eaton, who was coming back from a morning parade of the company, increased his pace on seeing Julia, but she turned aside and walked towards Bayle.
“Yes, but if I had not just spoken to her,” muttered Sir Gordon, “she would have stopped. Well, it is only natural, and I had no business to speak—no business to trouble myself about her. Tom Porter says the old maid is bitterly mad about it, and declares the poor child is going to wreck her life as her mother did. The old cat! How dare she think such a thing! The impudence! Wishes the ship may be wrecked first and that we may all be drowned. Ah! you’re there, are you, sir?”
“Yes, Sir Gordon. Another cheroot?”
“Can’t you see I haven’t smoked this, fool? Here, give me a light!”
Tom Porter’s mahogany face did not change as he produced a piece of tinder and held it for his testy master to ignite his cigar.
“Thank ye, Tom,” said Sir Gordon, changing his tone. “Here, don’t go away. What did that woman say?”
“Thisbe, Sir Gordon?”
“Yes; you know whom I mean. About Miss Hallam?”
“Wished we might all be wrecked and drowned before it came off.”