“Gething,” said the old lady, “Captain Gething. If you should see him, and would tell him that he has nothing to fear, and that his wife and his daughter Annis are dying to see him, you will have done what I can never, never properly thank you for.”
“I’ll do my best,” said the other warmly. “Good-afternoon.”
He shook hands with the old woman, and then, standing with his hands by his side, looked doubtfully at Annis.
“Good-afternoon,” she said cheerfully.
Mrs. Gething showed him to the door.
“Any time you are at Gravesend, captain, we shall be pleased to see you and hear how you get on,” she said as she let him out.
The captain thanked her, pausing at the gate to glance covertly at the window; but the girl was bending over her work again, and he walked away rapidly.
Until he had reached his ship and was sitting down to his belated dinner he had almost forgotten, in the joyful excitement of having something to do for Miss Gething, the fact that she was engaged to another man. As he remembered this he pushed his plate from him, and, leaning his head on his hand, gave way to a fit of deep melancholy. He took the photograph from his pocket, and, gazing at it intently, tried to discover a likeness between the father and daughter. There was not sufficient to warrant him in bestowing a chaste salute upon it.
“What do you think o’ that?” he inquired, handing it over to the mate, who had been watching him curiously.
“Any friend o’ yours?” inquired the mate, cautiously.