“Your pardon, sir. My name is Miss Keene, as you are aware.”
“Ah! adored one! so hard-hearted to your humble slave!”
“My word, Albert!” And the heavy hand of his uncle, the Admiral, fell with a smart slap upon the Captain’s shoulder. “So you do not fail to make hay while the sun shines! But there’s such a thing as poaching in another’s preserves, man. Ha, ha, Miss Polly! Well, and what news from abroad of the unfortunate prisoners, eh?”
Captain Peirce wore the look of a thunder-cloud under this interruption, which he dared not openly resent, not only because young men in those times were far more submissive to older men than now, but because, also, had he aroused the Admiral’s ire, he would have drawn upon themselves the attention of the whole room. Admiral Peirce was known to be hasty and prompt in speech, and not slow to speak out his mind. So he glowered silently, and Polly looked with a smile into the battered face of the old sailor, now on shore for a brief spell.
“Nay, sir, I have not heard for this very long while from any of them; and ’tis but seldom we may hope to hear. Letters go astray by hundreds. Doubtless they write, as do we—to no purpose.”
“Ay, ay, trust Boney for that! He’ll not help forward the post. Well, well, every lane in time has its turning; and Boney will come to his turning sooner or later. Nay, indeed, has he not already, at the glorious Battle of Trafalgar, of immortal memory?”
“And on land too, sir; in time our brave soldiers will have the best of it, and will gain the reward that is due to their valour,” suggested Polly.
Captain Peirce’s opportunity was gone; and though Polly did not appear to avoid him, yet he found no second chance. Jack and Molly, looking on, saw this little episode, and they wondered—had the old Admiral acted accidentally or on purpose? And was Polly glad or sorry? Neither question received an answer.
In the small hours of the morning, when dancing was ended, Mrs. Bryce drove home, with the two girls, in the fine yellow coach, which was considered to be a suitable “equipage” for one in her position. Mr. Bryce, having a cold, had not gone with them. The girls retired to their room, and Molly would have liked to question her companion, had she dared. But Polly, with all her sweetness, could hold folks aloof if she chose; and this night she did choose. She was very pale and tired—sad too, Molly thought, now that the excitement was over. Few words passed between them, before they crept into bed.
Was that a sound of smothered weeping? Molly was all but asleep, when it aroused her. She listened carefully.