Mr Peter considered Margaret a remarkably fine girl--handsome, clever, and with money--who would do him credit as a wife, if he should make up his mind to take her. He had very nearly done so. He would have done so, but that there was another, a competing beauty, as eligible, seemingly, in all respects, and still more attractive. Miss Hillyard was quite as handsome; and if Clam Beach knew less about her fortune, that was the natural consequence of her being from Chicago. Her dress and appointments betokened wealth; and he had gathered from the American boarders that the Deanes, with whom she travelled, were people of note, and very rich. Her complete self-possession showed both that she had lived in the world, and had held a good place in it; and, for herself, she was perhaps handsomer than the other. Their styles were so different that they could not be compared; but if anything, he preferred Miss Hillyard's. Being sandy-haired and pale-eyed himself, the brilliant brunette, with her rich colour, bright eyes, and abundant hair, had the attraction which lies in opposites; and then her conversation and manner were so much more formed and matured than were Margaret's. She was a woman, in fact, while the other was a girl, and, he fancied, would suit him better as a companion.
Miss Hillyard, however, was at the other end of the boat with Mr Naylor, as she so often was now--"Why did she waste so much of her company on that old cod?" he wondered--in the centre of a knot of young people, whose frequent laughter showed that the conversation was general.
Margaret was before him, and glancing up at her where she sat, he doubted if anything could be prettier than the picture she made, under the shadow of her broad-leafed hat, bound with a copious scarf. She had little colour; but the healthy pallor harmonised with the blueness of her violet eyes, and the brown hair escaping into sunshine behind her ear, and flashing like ruddy gold. The colour of her eyes repeated itself in the handkerchief knotted at her throat; and her Holland riding-habit, fitting without a crease, displayed to perfection the lithe young figure, with arms so free and supple. "Cœlebs in search of a wife" began to doubt if this damsel were not the better choice. He coughed to clear his voice, and proceeded to make conversation in his best manner.
He talked about the scenery. The bay reminded him of the Bay of Salerno, and every other bay, seemingly, which he had ever seen in distant places--especially in the Mediterranean--which sounded picturesque and romantic to Margaret, who had never been out of Canada till now, and tended to impress her with his merit as an accomplished traveller and man of the world. He had maundered eastward as far as the Gulf of Corinth, and even alluded casually to the Golden Horn, with the intention of taking it next, waxing eloquent over the glories of Constantinople, and favouring her with recollections and anecdotes of Eastern life, when Petty, standing by disgusted at his exclusion from a conversation in which he could not gain standing-room, cried out--
"See! they are actually launching a big sail-boat up the cove yonder. What can people want with a sail-boat in a calm like this?"
Margaret started and turned round, regardless of the coast of Greece, Dardanelles, and Bosphorus, about which she had been expecting to hear.
"Where are they launching a boat, Mr Petty? Pray show me;" and there came a flush to her cheek, and she looked at him so brightly with a grateful smile, that the young fellow's heart beat faster than before, and he was very happy.
"Do you think they will make out to sail to-day? I wish there would spring up a little wind. Do you not think they will manage to get along, Mr Petty, with skilful steering?"
"I fear, if they do not get under way, they will have little opportunity to steer. When a boat is lying at rest in the water, it does not make any difference how you turn the helm. But see! they are taking out the oars. They will kill themselves in this hot weather. Two men to go rowing a heavy boat like that!"
"Ah, poor fellows! And how they tug and strain to get the great unwieldy thing in motion! They will kill themselves, toiling in the heat--get sunstroke perhaps. How I wish----" but here she stopped short. Perhaps she knew in her heart that she did not wish the thing she had been going to say, or perhaps she thought best to keep her own counsel. She clutched her hands, and wrung them a little, but not enough to be remarkable, and watched the boat.