‘You will have a fine scar, my lad,’ said the sailor.
‘That doesn’t matter. I assure you, the thing is of no consequence. It is not really bad.’
‘It is quite bad enough,’ said Lady Eliza.
‘You think far too much of it, ma’am.’
‘At any rate, sit down and help yourself to some wine. I have not half thanked you for your good offices.’
‘I fancy he is repaid,’ said Somerville dryly, glancing at the strips of plaster.
Lady Eliza had ordered a carriage to be got ready to take Speid and the sailor home, and Captain Somerville had sent a message to Kaims by Jimmy Stirk, telling his family to expect his return in the morning, as he had accepted Gilbert’s suggestion that he should remain at Whanland for the night. He looked kindly on this arrangement, for he was over sixty, and it was a long time since he had exerted himself so much.
While they stood in the hall bidding Lady Eliza good-night, Cecilia came downstairs. She had not followed Gilbert to the dining-room. She held out her hand to him as he went away.
‘Thank you,’ said he, looking at her and keeping it for a moment.
He leaned back in the carriage beside Somerville, very silent, and, when they reached Whanland and he had seen his friend installed for the night, he went to his own room. What had become of Macquean he did not know and did not care. He sat late by the fire, listening to the snoring of the sailor, which reached him through the wall.