He was answered by the invalid himself coming out of the cavern, and wishing him good-morning with a confused and guilty air.
“Well now,” said Captain Millet after a moment’s pause, while he glanced from the one to the other, “this beats the polar regions all to sticks and stivers. Rose, my dear, you go round the p’int, an’ wait by the dog-cart till I come to ’ee.”
“So, young man,” he said, turning sternly to Jeff, “you’ve bin cruisin’ after my little girl without leave.”
“I am guilty, Captain Millet,” said Jeff humbly, “but not intentionally so. Long ago, when I learned that there was no hope of recovering my old strength, I had determined to give up all thoughts of dear Rose; but I was taken by surprise this morning—was off my guard—and, I confess, wickedly took advantage of my opportunity to tell her how dearly I loved her. Yet it was done under a sudden, irresistible impulse. I do not excuse myself. I would give worlds to undo the evil I may have done. But after all it may be undone. Rose may have mistaken her extreme sympathy and pity for love. If so, she will not suffer much, or long. Indeed, now I think of it, she won’t suffer at all, except regret at having been led to raise false hopes in my breast.”
The mere thought of this was so depressing, that Jeff, who was already almost worn out with excitement, leaned heavily on his stick for support.
“Jeff,” returned the captain severely, “how could you do it?”
“I hardly know,” rejoined Jeff, feeling something of the old Adam rising in his breast; “but my intentions were honourable, whatever my conduct may have been under impulse and strong temptation. Perhaps I might appeal to your own experience. Have you never done that which you did not mean to under the power of impulse?”
“You’ve hit me there, boy, below the water-line,” said the captain, relaxing a little: “for I not only put the question to my old woman without leave, but carried her off with flyin’ colours against orders; but it came all right at last, though I didn’t deserve it. However, Jeff, you’ve no need to look so blue. My little girl has raised no false hopes in your breast. Moreover, let me tell you, for your comfort, that I saw the doctor this morning, and he says that your constitution is so strong that you’re in a fair way to pull through in spite of him, and that you’ll be fit for good service yet—though not exactly what you were before. So, keep up your heart, Jeff! Never say die, and you shall wed my Rosebud yet, as sure as my name’s Dick Millet.”
There was need for these words of comfort, for the poor youth was obliged to sit down on the sand for a few minutes to recover strength.
“I’ve had a pretty stiff morning altogether, captain,” he said apologetically; “but I’m thankful—very thankful—for the succession of events that have brought me to this happy hour.”