He looked curiously at me for a moment, and then said:
“Matter? Nothing, as I knows on. What should be the matter with the little dearie?”
“Nothing should be the matter with her,” I answered, rather tartly perhaps; “but she seemed unusually silent and unlike herself last night and, as you seem pretty deep in her confidence, I thought you might know the cause.”
“Ay, ay,” he returned; “she do speak pretty free to me, I’ll allow which I accounts for by my being an old man—at least, she seems to think me so, if I may judge by what she said yesterday and as to knowing the cause of her being out of sorts like, perhaps I do, and perhaps I don’t. I has my suspicions, and pretty strong ones they be, too; but it ain’t for the likes of me to say a word. Axe no questions, Harry, my lad, but just leave things to work themselves out; she’ll be all right again shortly, you take my word for it.”
“Is she ill, do you think, Bob?” I inquired in some anxiety.
“Ill? do she look like it?” queried he with a loud laugh. “No, no, she’s well enough; but women’s most oncommon difficult to understand, boy; and the only way is to let ’em alone and take no notice when they seems queer. Now, don’t axe me no questions, for I don’t know anything about it, and what I guess I ain’t going to tell.”
What the old fellow surmised it was quite impossible for me to imagine, and equally impossible to extract from him, for he was as stubborn as a mule; and if he made up his mind to a certain course nothing earthly had the power of turning him from it; so, with the unpleasant sensation that there was a mystery somewhere, I was obliged to hold my tongue and console myself with the reflection that, at all events, it could be nothing which concerned me personally.
Shortly after the conversation Ella made her appearance at the head of the companion-ladder, and, bidding us both a cheery “Good-morning,” summoned me to breakfast.
As soon as the coffee was poured out, and we had fairly commenced the meal, she said, “If you ever have any secrets to discuss, Mr Collingwood, I would advise you to seek some other place than the deck of the Water Lily. You sailors appear to have the habit of talking loudly in the open air, and I was awakened by your voices this morning, and quite unintentionally heard much, if not all, of your conversation. I am sorry that my quiet mood of last night should have given you any uneasiness, but I hope you will be relieved when I assure you that there was nothing whatever the matter with me. I am singularly susceptible to surrounding influences; and the solemn beauty of the night excited within me a feeling of—not sadness altogether, but of gravity almost amounting to it, which has now entirely passed away. Your best plan will be to follow Bob’s advice, and take no notice of my varying moods, for they really have no significance. I have not the least idea what it is that the worthy fellow suspects as being the matter with me; but, whatever it is, he is quite mistaken, for I am happy to say I am perfectly well both in body and mind.”
I felt greatly relieved at this explanation, and said so; and Ella, as though to make up for her silence of the previous night, was rattling away in a more lively strain than ever, when Bob shouted from the deck, “Land ho!”