“In the hurry of an interview with a friend,” he said, “I may have forgotten that I am host to even such guests as it is my happiness to entertain, though it be done so very indifferently.”
“Spare your civilities, sir,” said Mrs Wyllys, with dignity: “In order to make us less sensible of any intrusion, be pleased to act the master here.”
The Rover first saw the ladies seated; and then, like one who appeared to think the occasion might excuse any little departure from customary forms, he signed, with a smile of high courtesy, to his lieutenant to imitate their example.
“His Majesty’s artisans have sent worse ships than the ‘Dart’ upon the ocean, Wilder,” he commenced, with a significant look, as if he intended that the other should supply all the meaning that his words did not express; “but his ministers might have selected a more observant individual for the command.”
“Captain Bignall has the reputation of a brave and an honest man.”
“Ay! He should deserve it; for, strip him of these qualities, and little would remain. He gives me to understand that he is especially sent into this latitude in quest of a ship that we have all heard of, either in good or in evil report; I speak of the Red Rover!’”
The involuntary start of Mrs Wyllys, and the sudden manner in which Gertrude grasped the arm of her governess, were certainly seen by the last speaker but in no degree did his manner betray the consciousness of such an observation. His self-possession was admirably emulated by his male companion, who answered, with a composure that no jealousy could have seen was assumed,—
“His cruise will be hazardous, not to say without success.”
“It may prove both. And yet he has lofty expectations of the results.”
“He probably labours under the common error as to the character of the man he seeks.”