“Am I going to England?”
“Yes.”
“Am I going on the Merrimac? Am I really to have a voyage?”
“Yes and yes. Do you think I would let you sail under any other man’s orders?”
She made no reply for a time, and seemed to be fully occupied in following the windings of the serpent-like Rubicon.
“You need not pose as my wife,—that is, you need not occupy yourself with me. Every man in command of a ship is accustomed to have solitary young persons travelling in his charge. I shall not impose my society upon you—not unless you request it,” he added, slowly.
She had traced the Rubicon until it blended with the horizon, and now she looked into his resolved face. “What do you propose to do with me when we reach England?”
“I propose to follow your wishes to the last degree,” he said, with weary gallantry. “If you wish to stay in England I will find some suitable place for you; if you wish to come back with me—” a short satisfied laugh finished the sentence.
“You think I will come back with you,” she said, uneasily.
“I know you will,” he replied, with a conceit so marked that her quick temper was aroused in a flash. “I shall not go one step with you,” she cried, petulantly.