“Wrong, my dear fellow! No. Why do you ask?”
“Well, when you rounded the corner just now you were walking at such a terrific pace, and looked so much as though you were greatly upset about something, that I feared there had been an accident at ‘Sea View,’ and that—”
“That I was hurrying off for the nearest doctor, eh? Well, you may set your mind at rest, my dear boy; nothing is the matter. I have just left Mrs Walford’s, and both she and Lucy are in excellent health, I am glad to say. It is deuced kind of you, though, to take such a warm interest in them, and I thank you for it with all my heart. You are a prime favourite there, I can tell you, my lad; I have been frightfully jealous of you for a long time, but now I shall never be so any more. Lucy—darling girl that she is—has had pity upon me at last, and has condescended to set all my fears at rest; so you may congratulate me if you like.”
“Upon her having—accepted you as—as—her future husband?” gasped Leicester, white to the very lips.
“Exactly; I knew you would be glad to hear it, being an old friend of hers,” was the reply. “But mum’s the word for the present. Our regiment is ordered away to the West Indies at once, so Lucy wishes the engagement to be kept secret until I can return home to claim her. Well, I must be off; you are going to ‘Sea View,’ I suppose? Don’t mention our conversation there, please; I should not like Lucy to know that I have already been prating of the engagement; if she feels inclined to tell you of it herself, of course that is another thing.”
“All right, I’ll not say a word about it, you may rest assured,” answered Leicester, as he suffered his hand to be clasped in farewell; “in fact, I don’t suppose I shall have an opportunity to mention it to them; I am not going to call there to-night, and I may not have time to call there at all, as I shall be very busy during the next few days. I—I am—thinking of giving up the Industry and going—somewhere—abroad, myself.”
“Are you?” ejaculated Walford with great heartiness. “Well done; I am glad to hear you say so. A fellow with your pluck and sinews was never intended to potter about in a trumpery little coaster. Well, good-bye.”
The two men separated; Walford to chuckle and exult over the complete success of his suddenly planned ruse, and Leicester, with all hope and brightness gone out of his face, to saunter despondently along the road and back to Gosport, by way of Haslar Common, avoiding “Sea View” altogether.
So Lucy was lost to him! Well, after all, it was no more than he had dreaded all along; he had been a fool, and worse than a fool, to suppose that he, a plain, unpolished seaman, could possibly have a chance of success when pitted against a fellow like Walford—curse him! No—no, not that, he did not mean that; why should he curse the man to whom Lucy had given her young, fresh love? Still it was very hard to bear—very hard; he hoped the fellow would treat her well; if not, let him look to himself. But why should not Walford treat her well? Who could do otherwise? Who was there in the whole wide world who could find it in his heart to be anything but kind and loving and tender to her? And yet—Psha! Who was he—George Leicester—that he should judge another man? True, he had heard some very queer stories about this same Lieutenant Walford, but doubtless they were all fabrications; Lucy was not the girl to love a man of whom such things could possibly be true. And as to his (Leicester’s) own feelings of distrust and dislike, why they were after all only the natural outcome of his jealousy, and were certainly not to be relied upon as indicating faultiness of character in his successful rival. Still, argue as he would, he had his doubts, and he could not dispel them, and—well, it was a hard blow, coming so suddenly, too; it was difficult to bear it patiently even now, and he had a shrewd suspicion that it would be still more difficult to bear by-and-by, when he fully realised the extent of his loss.
But it was no use fretting over it; the question was, “What was now to be done?” He could not possibly live on the old humdrum life any longer. He must have excitement and activity, plenty of both, to keep his mind occupied, and to prevent his fretting over his disappointment. “Yes, that was a happy inspiration which had led him to tell Walford he intended giving up the Industry; that must be his first act. And after that? Well, after that he would look about him, and if he could pick up a tidy little vessel cheap; he would invest his savings in the purchase of her, sail in his own employ, and try to stifle all vain regrets by plunging into a more adventurous mode of existence.”