One universal glow had covered her face and neck at his first approach, while she could have cried with vexation at the exposure. “You do not misunderstand me, I hope,” he said, perceiving her pitiable agitation. “You must, I think,” he continued, “be able to comprehend for what purpose I have requested this interview. You must have expected that I could not see Lord Surrel’s importunate attentions, and remain passive.”
She made no reply; but coloured, if possible, deeper than before, and looked more studiously downward; yet, Fitz-Ullin perceived the dawning of a pleasurable feeling shining through the confusion that covered as with a veil every other expression of her countenance. How can he be so foolish, thought Julia, as to be jealous of an absolute stranger, like Lord Surrel.
“I am rejoiced to perceive,” he recommenced, “that instead of being offended at my presumption, you are good enough to seem disposed to give me a favourable hearing. It was quite impossible for me not to be fully aware—not to know, in fact, what are, what must be your feelings, yet,”—he paused. So audacious, so well assured a suitor, one who was thus certain, that her preference for himself must render the attentions of any one else importunate, did not seem to need encouragement; and Julia, though the tears of shame started to her eyes, was too gentle, too fondly attached to chide; she therefore remained silent; and, (must it be confessed?) uncontrollable delight predominated very unduly over the indignation she thought she ought to feel!
“At least, I should suppose I am right?” he continued, in a questioning tone. “If so—if,” Julia at length seemed to consider some little manifestation of spirit necessary. “Most people,” she faltered out, “would be offended at having their sentiments thus taken for granted; but you think, I suppose, that our long intimacy authorizes you to act as you please.”
“As I please!” repeated Fitz-Ullin, “most assuredly not as I please, but as you please. It may be, and certainly is in my power, and indeed I feel myself called upon, while you are in this ship, not to permit Lord Surrel, or any officer of mine, to make his attentions troublesome to you, in a situation where you can neither avoid his society, nor enjoy the protection of your natural friends; but, to control the inclinations of Lady Julia L⸺,” he added, (and with some bitterness) “is an undertaking to which I have not the boldness to aspire!”
Fortunately for Julia the stunning effects of the new and heart-chilling conviction supplied by this last speech, was so overpowering, that it gave her somewhat the appearance of outward calm. So, it was Lord Surrel’s attentions, Lord Surrel’s love, simply as troublesome to her, not as interfering with his own, of which he was speaking! Here, indeed, was a revulsion of every feeling, too tremendous for Julia’s strength! Her heart utterly ceased beating, her cheeks became as white and cold as marble.
“Am I to understand then,” said Fitz-Ullin, surprised at her silence and change of countenance, “that the attentions of Lord Surrel are agreeable to you?”
Starting into momentary life, she exclaimed, hastily and eagerly, “Oh, no!”
“Then I know how to act,” said Fitz-Ullin, as rising, and bowing with a dignified and rather scornful air, he seemed about to leave the cabin; when, pausing and returning a step or two, he stopped before her, and added, in a suppressed tone, and with visible effort, “I was for a moment apprehensive that my present interference was, perhaps, as unwelcome as my unconscious intermeddling on another occasion. But, in that particular at least, I trust you do me justice. I acted according to the routine of duty. It was impossible for me to know—to suppose—that some such step indeed was contemplated, I was partly aware; but of the when, and the how, you must be conscious I could have no suspicion. You acquit me then, I trust, of availing myself of a reposed confidence to play the ruffian, and using the power entrusted to me for the public good, for private and unjustifiable purposes?”