Lying there in the dark, I seemed to see her face as plainly as if she were standing just in front of me. Those wonderful eyes and the soft curve of her lips stood out before me with a strange, bewitching vividness. Slowly and with a curious pleasure I went through again all our conversation during the drive down from Oporto. It had been simple enough on the surface—the mere exchange of ordinary cheerful commonplaces suitable to the situation—but once more I seemed to catch that faint, tantalising atmosphere of reserve and mystery which was none the less real for being so utterly intangible.
The more I thought it over the more certain I felt that in her own opinion there was some impenetrable barrier which cut her off from the possibility of making friends with anyone on board. Her uncle's wishes may have had something to do with it, but there seemed to me little doubt that she herself shared his views in the matter, and was fully determined to carry them out.
It was not exactly an encouraging conclusion, but I refused to let it depress me. Barriers, after all, are only made to be attacked, and on the whole I rather like a certain amount of opposition. It adds so enormously to the value of the prize after one has succeeded in getting one's own way.
I meditated upon this satisfactory truth a little longer, and at last with a feeling of drowsy contentment over the prospect of seeing and talking with her the next morning, I turned over comfortably on my side and dropped off to sleep.
It is not always that nature is so obliging as to harmonize with one's feelings, but from what I could see through the porthole when I woke up the next morning it appeared to me that the weather was thoroughly in keeping with my own good spirits. When I reached the deck I found no reason for changing my opinion. Under a sky of cloudless blue and through a sparkling, sunlit sea the Neptune was steadily churning her way northwards, leaving a broad white wake of foam stretching away half a mile behind her. Even the usually expressionless face of the first officer was wreathed in a satisfied smile as he paced slowly up and down the bridge.
By half-past seven one or two passengers had already made their appearance, but it was not until a few minutes after eight that I at last caught sight of Miss de Roda. She was standing by herself looking out over the stern railing, and the sudden thrill that ran through me when I recognised her showed me that my feelings must have been travelling at a very creditable pace during the last twenty-four hours.
There was not much time before breakfast, so, without any unnecessary delay, I at once made my way aft. She looked up as I approached, and the swift fear I felt that she might have repented making the appointment vanished immediately before the friendly smile with which she returned my greeting.
"Good morning, Mr. Dryden," she said, "and if you've any consideration for my feelings, please don't tell me it's a beautiful day. I have heard that from three different people already."
I looked at her with deep contentment. She was wearing a plain linen frock that showed off the graceful lines of her figure, and altogether she was as fresh and delightful a picture as ever gladdened the eye of sinful man.
"I am sorry," I said regretfully. "I had made up one or two very bright remarks on the subject, but under the circumstances I'll keep them for somebody else." I paused. "How is Señor de Roda this morning?" I asked. "I hope he hasn't heard anything about our adventures in the harbour?"