"Wid that she gave a bit of a laugh, an' sez, 'No doubt, Sergeant Gorman! But I didn't mean it just that way,' sez she. 'I meant that his ancestors have been men of rank and noble birth for generations.' 'As for that,' sez I, 'I don't take much stock in me pedigree,' sez I. 'A man don't go far wid his ancesthors till he foinds wan he'd loike to trade off for some wan else. But seein' that they are both dead an' done wid, he can't do it convaniently. To illustrate, I'll jist tell your ladyship how it happened to mesilf,' sez I.
"'Wanst whin I was in Indy, I tuk it into me moind to go home to Ireland an' hunt up me ancesthors. I came to me birthplace, Sleeahtballymackcurraghalicky in County Cork, an' tould the ouldest man in the place who I was an' what was me business. "Yis," sez he, "yis; I don't know you; but I've hard of you, an' I knowed your fader. Your name is John Gorman. Your fader's was Shon Jay Pay. His fader was Shon Mor. An' his fader was another Shon who was hanged by the English for bein' a Rory of the Hills." 'An', ma'am,' sez I, 'wud you believe me, I didn't pursue me ancesthors anny farder—shure as I'm a livin' man. I didn't pursue me dead an' gone ancesthors anny farder.'
'But,' sez she, wid a little laugh, 'Mr. Carteret's ancestors were not like that. They were noblemen. His father is an earl. His oldest brother is the heir. But his father is an old man, and cannot live long, and the heir has only one lung, and when he dies, Mr. Carteret will succeed to the title and the estates.' 'Well, ma'am,' sez I, 'if it's my opinion you want, it's this. The heir shud trade off his wan lung wid an auctioneer for his two, an' give him £100,000 to boot. For it's little honor will be done to the title, an' little profit to the estates, if that spalpeen of a Carteret gets thim,' sez I, 'beggin' your ladyship's pardon for talkin' so freely in your prisince.'
"Thin she got very red agin. Afther a bit she sez, 'Thank you, Sergeant Gorman, for your opinions,' sez she. 'Here's a guinea for you.' 'Thank you, ma'am,' sez I, 'but I'm nayther a lawyer to be sellin' me gab for money, nor a beggar to be takin' charity,' sez I. 'I'm the son of an Irish gentleman.' Wid that she looked at me kind of curious loike, an' sez, 'Pardon me, Mr. Gorman, for offering it to you. But just the same I want to thank you for your services to my daughter and to me,' an' she reached out her hand an' shook hands wid me rale friendly loike."
When Sinclair, McLeod, and Gorman separated that night, Sinclair saw before him the possibility of a change of attitude on the part of Mrs. MacAllister towards Carteret and himself.
XXXII
A MAN AND A WOMAN.
The day of departure had come. The Hailoong was floating on a full tide, ready to cast off. Those who were remaining were down to bid farewell to those who were going. Impedimenta had been stored away, and all had gathered in two groups on the promenade deck. Dr. MacKay, his wife and children, Mr. and Mrs. Thomson, and a number of native students and preachers, formed one group. The Beauchamps, the MacAllisters, Commander Gardenier, Boville, Carteret (for the residents still called him by the name by which they had known him all along), and most of the young men of the customs and mercantile staffs, formed the other.
Dr. Sinclair, who had been busy helping in the hasty preparations for departure, walked forward along the side of the deck next the dock. Miss MacAllister disengaged herself from the little group and stepped to the rail, as though to watch the last incidents of the embarkation. They met on the very spot where they had stood that memorable evening on which the Hailoong put out from Amoy to face the capricious seas of the Channel.
What a change had come in their relations! They knew that many eyes were watching them. Their words, if spoken above a whisper, would be audible. There could be no demonstration, scarcely even a sign of understanding or affection. Yet there was the attitude of perfect confidence. And when their eyes met, they spoke a language which both understood.