Already they were getting the anchor up, and raising the launch aboard by means of block and tackle attached to the davits.
Carmencita I easily found; the child was shrinking against the cabin bulkhead, and seemed overwhelmed with shyness in the presence of Diana.
I imagined the latter might have been endeavoring to extract some information from her, but from my own experience, I knew how hopeless this must be without a knowledge of Spanish, which, I felt sure, she did not possess.
“Come with me, Carmencita, to your mistress. What is that you have there? Oh, her bag. Let me carry it for you.”
I saw Diana’s eyes fastened curiously upon the little article as I took hold of it; but thought no more about the matter, or what she might weave from the fact of my initials being on the bag.
It gave me a queer feeling to take hold of the thing again—that photograph, you know. After all, was there anything so strange about that? Suppose some one would point out a very handsome fellow on the street and say confidentially to you: “Two years from now that chap will be your wife’s husband?” I suppose it would give you a start, and every time you saw him after that you would be certain to have a bad feeling.
Well, that covered my case, only it was even more aggravated, since I had some reason to suspect the two years had already flown, and the prophecy was an accomplished fact.
I stalked into the cabin, and knocked at the door of Hildegarde’s stateroom, which she at once opened.
“I’ve brought him—I mean the bag, to you, and here’s Carmencita, too,” I said, extending my burden, which she eagerly pounced upon.
“Oh! I wouldn’t have lost that for worlds!”