"You look perfectly well as you are," he answered, with a sorrowfully tender gaze at the graceful form in its natty blue serge and coquettish sailor-hat.
"Oh, that is like you—you never care what I wear! I really think I'll change. What a bother Mathilde is to be sick like this! But you can hook my skirt, can't you, Leon?"
"My dear little woman, we shall be on shore in five minutes. You must come on deck directly. Be quick—I want to see who is there to greet us."
"How tiresome! Why didn't you remind me that the people would turn out to look at us?" she complained. "I do hate to feel shabby."
"Elsa! you look perfectly charming! Do you suppose the villagers can distinguish between the prices of your gowns?" He coaxingly put his arm round her. "I want to feel proud of my wife," he said. "Put on your best smile for the people, darling."
In this wise he managed to persuade her into showing herself on deck just in time. As the Swan drew on gracefully close in shore, a hearty cheer greeted the young couple as they stood side by side.
"There are Cranmer and his wife, besides dear old Fowler!" cried Leon, gladly, as he waved his cap. "How pleasant to have Claud here—it seems so long since I saw him—not since our wedding-day!"
"Humph! You are a civil bridegroom! I am sorry that time has passed so tediously," said Elsa, in some real and some pretended annoyance. "But is that really Wynifred Allonby—Cranmer, I mean? How she has improved in looks! I suppose it is because she is better dressed. Mr. Cranmer looks well, too."
In a few minutes they were all on shore together, in the midst of greetings.
As Claud and Percivale joined hands, their eyes met in a long, searching, mutual inquiry. One moment showed Claud that his friend had not found perfect happiness. He was changed; he looked older, and the expression of his eyes and mouth seemed to tell of mental suffering.