"Say something sympathetic, can't you?" said Justin, stepping forward, and whispering in his ear.
"Bless my heart and soul, how can I?" ejaculated Captain White. "Now, if I had her alone—" and confusedly folding his arms, he retired to his seat.
To Justin's irrepressible delight, his young wife, in a state of utter fascination, drew nearer to the rough-coated stranger. "You go away from home a good deal, don't you?" she said, wistfully. "I hope that you will be able to stay with us now."
"Now, for the love of mercy," said the sea-faring man, turning in quiet desperation to Justin, and speaking under his breath, "tell me who this is?"
"She is my wife," said the young man.
Captain White fell into a state of speechless unbelief until he found confirmation of the announcement in the expression of Mrs. Prymmer's face. Justin must indeed be married to this lovely creature. Where had he got her? He rubbed both hands over his smooth head and was about to subside into stupid perplexity, when he discovered that the girl's face was quivering in a pitiful manner that threatened a feminine outbreak of some sort. Her face did not belie its promise. In one minute she had burst into violent weeping, and Justin, springing forward, was leading her from the room.
Captain White fixed his attention on the only member of the family left to him. "Hippolyta, can you let a little light in on these queer proceedings? What, you are not cracked, too,—you, best hope of the elect in Rossignol?"
His cousin was, indeed, in a state of collapse. She had just seen tumbling to the ground a fragile house of cards that she had been erecting, or, rather, a castle in Spain,—for she would be shocked at the mention of anything so worldly and pernicious as bits of painted cardboard in connection with her name. All day long she had contemplated with the utmost satisfaction the prostration of her daughter-in-law after her long journey. Derrice had lain in bed till the evening; she had been on the sofa until Captain White's arrival. She seemed utterly overcome. Perhaps it was the will of the Lord that, in a short time, this flaxen-haired doll should be laid in the grave, and she would then again have her son to herself. Now, in some unaccountable way, the girl had been roused to unusual animation by the appearance of Captain White. Her cheeks had flushed, she had seemed interested and pleased. This fit of tears was but a manifestation of temper,—"girls' tricks," she muttered, angrily. The will of the Lord was not to have her sicken and die,—it was clashing with her will, with hers, acknowledged saint, the most devout woman in the town of Rossignol. There was something radically wrong with the order of things, and she felt stunned, and in no condition to talk.
One or two ineffectual attempts she made to answer her cousin's inquiries, then, with a ponderous and unsteady step, she rushed from the room.
Captain White stretched his lean neck around the door-post. "She's off on a gale with passion for her sail. Never saw such queer doings in this house before. That lass has doddered them,—guess I'll get something to eat. In every sudden squall of life, fortify yourself by a visit to the pantry. It's wonderful how the stomach backs up your staying powers," and, wandering out into the hall, he sauntered down a staircase to the lower part of the house.