“What! Alone and unattended?” cried Mrs. Black. “You wish to desert us, when I count upon your companionship and society? If you insist upon returning to Hawkhurst, Neva, of course you can go, and we will go with you. But this selfish tyranny—forgive me—is not like your generous self. I would not have believed you so ungracious. My pleasure is quite spoiled. Craven, dear, let us turn back to London.”
Mr. Black arose to go on deck.
Neva detained him by a gesture, her proud face flushing.
“You need not turn back upon my account,” she said half haughtily. “I will accompany Mrs. Black to the Wilderness. I have no wish to appear ungracious, but you will remember that my friends do not know where I am, and may be anxious about me.”
“Oh, Neva!” cried Mrs. Black reproachfully. “Are we not your best friends? But I am too happy in your concession to find fault with your phraseology. Craven, we will go to your dear old Wilderness, and if I like it, I’ll fit it up for a shooting-box, and next year we will come up here the gayest party that ever visited the ‘land o’ cakes.’”
Neva did not linger in the cabin, but went out on deck, and walked to and fro for exercise, while her eyes scanned the waters and the horizon.
The yacht was far out upon the wide North Sea, or German Ocean, a mere speck in the wild waste of waters. There were sails gleaming in the distance in the clear September sunshine, but no shores were visible. The wind was blowing fair and free, the sky was clear, the air crisp and chilly, but nevertheless agreeable.
Neva walked alone until she grew tired, and then sat down in her folding deck chair and thought until her brain was wearied. Mr. and Mrs. Black joined her, and talked and chatted for some hours. Luncheon was served on the deck, and the afternoon wore on as the morning had done.
Night again settled down upon the sea, so bright with moonlight and starlight that it was not less lovely than the day had been. Neva went to bed early, and slept profoundly, not being even visited by dreams.
The next day passed as the other had done, but the coast was not yet seen. The wind proved variable upon this day, but Craven Black consulted his charts frequently, and talked with the sailors, and Mrs. Black yawned, and declared that a sea voyage was charming, but intolerably dull.