Upon the deck above them there paced a young man, with bent head and thoughtful brow.
He was tall and exceedingly well-formed, his broad, full chest and square shoulders giving one the impression of great strength and powers of endurance.
He looked the Englishman every inch, and a very noble one withal.
He was not handsome, like Wilbur Coolidge, but he possessed a face of decision and truth.
He had deep, thoughtful gray eyes, a good mouth with kindly lines about it, and an expression of great firmness and character withal. It was a true, good face—a face to be trusted under any circumstances.
“How does she happen to be here, I wonder?” he muttered, with a far-away look out over the waters. “I know she left Philadelphia soon after her aunt’s death,” he continued, “and though Gordon tried hard to find where she had gone, he could not. She faded out of the fashionable world in which she used to move as completely and suddenly as a fallen star drops out of existence. I’m glad now I did not leave the button with him, as he wished me to do; no, I’ll give it to her with my own hands, or I will keep it forever!”
He walked absently to the side of the steamer, and stood looking into the turbid waters beneath; and not long after two ladies drew near, and he overheard the following conversation:
“Mamma, I tell you we shall have trouble with that governess as sure as the world.”
“I hope not,” replied the elder lady, with a troubled look.
“Wilbur is over head and ears in love with her already, and it will be just like her to lead him on for the sake of gaining a good position in the world,” and the young lady’s tone was exceedingly disagreeable.