“Then do me the favour to go up into the lantern of the light-house, and take a look for the sloop-of-war. If she's in sight at all, you'll find her off here to the northward; and while you are aloft you may as well make a sweep of the whole horizon. There hangs the light-house keeper's glass, which may help your eyes, by stepping into the gallery outside of the lantern.”
Jack willingly complied, taking the glass and proceeding forthwith to the other building. Mulford had two objects in view in giving this commission to the steward. He really wished to ascertain what was the chance of seeing the Poughkeepsie, in the neighbourhood of the islets, and felt just that indisposition to move himself, that is apt to come over one who has recently made a very bountiful meal, while he also desired to have another private conversation with Rose.
A good portion of the time that Jack was gone, and he stayed quite an hour in the lantern, our lovers conversed as lovers are much inclined to converse; that is to say, of themselves, their feelings, and their prospects. Mulford told Rose of his hopes and fears, while he visited at the house of her aunt, previously to sailing, and the manner in which his suspicions had been first awakened in reference to the intentions of Spike—intentions, so far as they were connected with an admiration of his old commander's niece, and possibly in connection also with the little fortune she was known to possess, but not in reference to the bold project to which he had, in fact, resorted. No distrust of the scheme finally put in practice had ever crossed the mind of the young mate, until he received the unexpected order, mentioned in our opening chapter, to prepare the brig for the reception of Mrs. Budd and her party. Harry confessed his jealousy of one youth whom he dreaded far more even than he had ever dreaded Spike, and whose apparent favour with Rose, and actual favour with her aunt, had given him many a sleepless night.
They next conversed of the future, which to them seemed full of flowers. Various were the projects started, discussed, and dismissed, between them, the last almost as soon as proposed. On one thing they were of a mind, as soon as proposed. Harry was to have a ship as quick as one could be purchased by Rose's means, and the promised bride laughingly consented to make one voyage to Europe along with her husband.
“I wonder, dear Rose, my poverty has never presented any difficulties in the way of our union,” said Harry, sensibly touched with the free way his betrothed disposed of her own money in his behalf; “but neither you nor Mrs. Budd has ever seemed to think of the difference there is between us in this respect.”
“What is the trifle I possess, Harry, set in the balance against your worth? My aunt, as you say, has thought I might even be the gainer by the exchange.”
“I am sure I feel a thousand times indebted to Mrs. Budd—”
“Aunt Budd. You must learn to say, 'my Aunt Budd,' Mr. Henry Mulford, if you mean to live in peace with her unworthy niece.”
“Aunt Budd, then,” returned Harry, laughing, for the laugh came easily that evening; “Aunt Budd, if you wish it, Rose. I can have no objection to call any relative of yours, uncle or aunt.”
“I think we are intimate enough, now, to ask you a question or two, Harry, touching my aunt,” continued Rose, looking stealthily over her shoulder, as if apprehensive of being overheard. “You know how fond she is of speaking of the sea, and of indulging in nautical phrases?”