Meanwhile Edward Armstrong sat at his solitary tea-table wrapped up in his own thoughts. Mrs. Lake came in to fetch the tea-things, but he did not speak. She roused him, however, by one remark—
"The ladies have got a beautiful evening for their trip, sir," she said; "they generally stay out two hours, but they started later than usual this evening—I suppose because the days are getting longer, and they're not back yet."
"It is a beautiful evening," replied the young man, rising and going to the open window; "I may as well have a stroll by the sea as sit here."
"So I thought, sir," was the reply, "and that's why I mentioned it."
Edward Armstrong smiled as he left the room, unprepared for the events of an evening which for his whole life would never be obliterated from his memory.
When he reached the village street, and turned down by the landing-place to the beach, the change from the costume of the afternoon to a suit of black, and a black hat with a crape band, made his appearance entirely that of a gentleman; there was nothing of the farmer's slouch in the tall, well-built, erect figure, and manly carriage.
He wandered on the beach for some time, enjoying the sweet freshness of the sea-breeze and watching the rippling waves, over which the approach of sunset threw a glow of crimson and gold; now and then, however, casting glances in the direction of Ryde, with a hope of once more beholding the face that had so completely enthralled him. The church clock struck seven, and presently, as he stood at a point a little beyond the battery from which royal salutes are now fired, he saw the Southampton steamer coming round a point of land at a little distance. He, with others, walked quietly on towards the landing-place, actuated by the curiosity as to new arrivals which generally besets occasional residents at the seaside.
But his attention was quickly withdrawn from the steamer. In the direction of Ryde he could see the green and gold of the pleasure-boat as it approached, struggling against the wind, which made her progress difficult and uneasy.
The rowers were evidently making for the point from which the boat had started, not very far from the spot where the steamer now lay, blowing off her steam, yet easily reached without danger of being run down, even if she moved before they could do so.
But the steamer had already created a difficulty, for when the boat entered the point where the waters unite, she encountered also the swell made by the paddle-wheels. Steadily the men plied their oars, while the boat, dancing and rolling on the surge, caused by the united effects of the wind, the steamer, and the double currents, attracted the attention of others besides Edward Armstrong. He could distinguish the ladies clearly as the men neared the shore. He saw the pale face and the violet eyes of Maria St. Clair fixed upon the steamer with painful intenseness; he saw the little gloved hands clasped on her lap, as if by that violent pressure she could prevent the steamer from moving. The men were bending all their strength to the oars, as with rapid strokes they made for the landing-place. Nearer and nearer came the boat till within fifty yards of the shore. The spectators scarcely breathed as it passed under the stern of the steamer, no one on deck seeming to notice it. Would they reach the shore before it moved?