"It is more Uncle Horace than mamma."
Virginia reddened. She knew her uncle's opinions, and she was not entirely ignorant of the reputation borne by Captain Brice.
She feigned ignorance however, listened with apparent surprise to her uncle's account of him and promised sweetly to treat him with the most distant politeness in future.
Mr. Dinsmore saw through her, but what more could he do, except keep a strict watch over both.
The captain, forsaken by Virginia, sauntered about the deck and presently approaching an elderly lady who sat somewhat apart from the rest, lifted his cap with a smiling "How do you do, Mrs. Noyes?" and taking an empty chair by her side entered into a desultory conversation.
"By the by," he said, "what an attractive family group is that over yonder," with a slight motion of the head in the direction of the Travillas. "The mother is my beau-ideal of a lovely matron, in appearance at least—I have not the happiness of her acquaintance—and the daughters are models of beauty and grace. They are from your neighborhood, I believe?"
"Yes; I have a calling acquaintance with Mrs. Travilla. She was a great heiress; has peculiar notions, rather puritanical; but is extremely agreeable for all that."
"Could you give me an introduction?"
She shook her head. "I must beg you to excuse me."
"But why?"