“The monotony of our lives is now likely to be interrupted, Mr Wilder,” commenced the former, first glancing his eye around, to make sure they were alone. “I have seen enough of your spirit and steadiness, to be sure, that, should accident disable me to conduct the fortunes of these people, my authority will fall into firm and able hands.”
“Should such a calamity befall us, I hope it may be found that your expectations shall not be deceived.”
“I have confidence, sir; and, where a brave man reposes his confidence, he has a right to hope it will not be abused. I speak in reason.”
“I acknowledge the justice of your words.”
“I would, Wilder, that we had known each other earlier. But what matters vain regrets! These fellows of yours are keen of sight to note those cloths so soon!”
“’Tis just the observation of people of their class. The nicer distinctions which marked the cruiser came first from yourself!”
“And then the ‘seven hundred and fifty tons of the black!—It was giving an opinion with great decision.”
“It is the quality of ignorance to be positive.”
“You say truly. Cast an eye at the stranger, and tell me how he comes on.”
Wilder obeyed, seemingly glad to be relieved from a discourse that he might have found embarrassing. Many moments were passed before he dropped the glass, during which time not a syllable fell from the lips of his companion. When he turned, however, to deliver the result of his observations, he met an eye, that seemed to pierce his soul, fastened on his countenance. Colouring highly, as if he resented the suspicion betrayed by the act, Wilder closed his half-open lips, and continued silent.