“Very well, Miss Scarsbrook, call me what you please. I can see your cheese merchant waddling this way now, attended by his ugly pirate of a boatswain. Doubtless he has some stock-fish on this occasion, and as stock-fish are very much like Dutchmen in one respect and I like neither, I wish you joy of him. Goodbye!” And Captain Foster swung on his heel and walked quickly out of the garden gate. As he strode down the narrow path he brushed past the Batavian merchant, who was on his way to the Commissary's office.
“Goot tay to you, Captain Foster,” said Port-veldt, grinning amiably.
“Go to the devil!” replied the Englishman promptly, turning round and facing the Dutchman to give due emphasis to his remark.
Portveldt, a tall, well-made fellow, and handsomely dressed, stared at Foster's retreating figure in angry astonishment, then changing his mind about first visiting the Commissary, he opened the garden gate, and came suddenly upon Dorothy Scarsbrook seated upon a rustic bench, weeping bitterly.
“My tear yong lady, vat is de matter? I beg you to led me gomfort you.”
“There is nothing the matter, Mr. Portveldt I thank you, but you cannot be of any service to me,” and Dolly buried her face in her handkerchief again.
“I am sorry ferry mooch to hear you say dat, Mees Dorotee, vor it vas mein hop dot you would dake kindtly to me.”
Dolly made no answer, and then Captain Portveldt sat down beside her, his huge figure quite filling up all the remaining space.
“Mees Dorotee,” he began ponderously, “de trood is dot I vas goming to see you to dell you I vas ferry mooch in loaf mid you, und to ask you to be mein vifes; but now dot you do veep so mooch, I——”
“Say no more if you please, Mr. Portveldt,” said Dolly, hastily drying her eyes. Then, rising with great dignity, she bowed and went on: “Of course I am deeply sensible of the great honour that you do me, but I can never be your wife.” And then to herself: “I fancy that I have replied in a very proper manner.”