Then there was a brief silence. Leonora's lashes drooped, with the dew of unshed tears on them. The young face looked very sad in the soft evening light.
"She is almost alone in the world—poor child!" he thought.
"I want to ask you something," he said, impulsively.
"Yes," she said, listlessly.
"Was it because of those things we talked of just now—those aristocratic prejudices—that you have so severely ignored De Vere and me?"
"Not exactly," she replied, hesitatingly.
"Then, why?" he asked, gravely.
She looked up into the handsome blue eyes. They were regarding her very kindly. Something like a sob swelled her throat, but she said, as calmly as she could:
"I'll tell you the reason, Captain Lancaster. Do you remember the day we sailed, and what you and Lieutenant De Vere talked of that night over your cigars?"
"I remember," he replied, with an embarrassment it was impossible to hide.