Disappointment took possession of the Captain's features, on this information: he sighed deeply, and, leaning back in his chair, covered his face with his hand.
He was recalled from his reverie, by his nephew expressing his surprise at the emotions St. Ledger had occasioned him.
"Ah! Frederick," replied the Captain; "there is something in his appearance——"
"Certainly not very prepossessing;" interrupted Lieutenant Harland: "to judge by that, I should take him for a pauper—or something worse."
Till that moment the habiliments of St. Ledger had been disregarded by Captain Howard and his nephew; it was St. Ledger himself, who engaged their attentions: he was pale and emaciated, but with features more than commonly handsome and expressive: at the insinuation of Harland, a momentary spark of passion suffused his cheek; but, looking at his dress, he suppressed a sigh, and with an air of injured dignity turned to the window. The captain regarded George with a sternness which never failed to check him, and, again addressing St. Ledger, asked if he wished to engage in the sea-faring life?
St. Ledger bowed—
"If such be your wish or intention, young man," continued the Captain, "you are welcome to remain here; and depend on my friendship—as you deserve!"
"As he deserves!" repeated George, with contemptuous haughtiness. "Were he to have his deserts, sir, I believe your friendship would not be put to the test."
"Forbear! Lieutenant," returned the Captain, "know your distance, young man, or take my word, my friendship to your father shall not shield you from your deserts!"
He waved his hand for St. Ledger to follow him, and left the cabin. Frederick likewise retired, leaving the Lieutenant highly incensed at the reproof he had received, and the favourable reception given to the indigent St. Ledger.