“Ah, they were good days, after all,” he said; “mad days—when it was win ten thousand or walk the plank every time the brig put her nose outside the harbour bar!”
“It turned out the ten thousand, I presume?” I said, without too much unbending.
“Oh,” he answered lightly, “as to myself, I was never very deeply entered. I had ever an anchor out to windward. It was rare that I acted without orders, and, having been in a high official position, it was in my power to render certain important services to the Government of this country—for which, I may say, they have not proved themselves less ungrateful than is the way of governments.”
“So it would seem,” I answered.
“But,” he continued, “I called chiefly to renew my acquaintance with my sometime wards—though one of them has sought another and a better guardian” (here he bowed very gracefully to me), “and the other—well, Louis lad, what have you to say to your old uncle?”
The boy came bounding up, and stood close by his chair, smoothing the lace of Lalor’s sleeve, his eyes full of happiness and confidence. It was a pretty sight, and for a moment I confess I was baffled. Could it be that after all Louis was right and Irma wrong? Could this man have supposed that the children were being held against their will and interest, or at least fraudulently removed from their legal guardian, when he assaulted the old house of Marnhoul?
Perhaps, as I began to surmise, we had on that occasion really owed our lives to him. For had the Golden Hinds all come on at a time, they would undoubtedly, being such a crew of cut-throats, have rushed us and eaten us up in no time.
Women, I tried to persuade myself, had dislikes even more inexplicable than their likings. Some early, unforgiven, childish prejudice, perhaps. Women do not easily forgive, except those whom they love, and even these only so long as they continue to love them. For many women the phrase in the Lord’s Prayer, “as we forgive them that trespass against us,” had better be expunged. It is a dead letter. The exceptions are so rare as to prove the rule—and even they, though they may forgive their enemies, draw the line at forgiving their neighbours.
“And am I not to see my fair enemy, Madame—ah, Duncan MacAlpine? I wish to have the honour of felicitating her infinite happiness, and I have taken the liberty of bringing her an old family jewel for her acceptance.”
“My wife, sir,” I said, “is not yet well. She is subject to sudden shock, and I fear——”