"My difficulties will be at an end. I shall leave the town and the gaming table and everything. You will come with me, Anastasia." This time he took her hand. "We will be Alexis and Amaryllis, the shepherd Strephon and the maiden Daphne. My Anastasia, believe me, I am tired of the world and its noisy pleasures. I sigh for rest and repose."
"And the girl?"
"She will do better without this huge fortune. Ye gods! to give such a girl—this sailor wench—this red and pink bourgeoise—the fortune that should have been yours, Anastasia! 'Tis monstrous! It cuts her off from her own people. She would do better to marry the young sailor fellow who stumbled and rolled through the minuet with her, thinking he was on his deck rolling in the bay of Biscay. I will set this matter right. I will relieve her of her fortune and throw her into those arms which reek of pitch and tar and rope. Happy girl!"
The Lady Anastasia sighed. "There will never be any rest—or any repose—or any happiness for you or for me. Have it your own way. I will make the girl my friend. I will tell her that you are the best of men and the most virtuous. Yes," she laughed a little, but not mirthfully, "the most virtuous. And now, I think, you may walk with me through their narrow lanes with a bridge and a stream for every one, to the small and dirty cabin where my maid makes shift to dress me every day, so that I may turn out decent at least."
CHAPTER XVII
"IN THE LISBON TRADE"
I was greatly surprised, being on duty aboard in the forenoon, to see Lord Fylingdale on our quay, which adjoins the Common Stath, in company with Captain Crowle.
In truth, the nobleman looked out of his element—a fish on dry land—in a place of trade. His dress was by no means suitable to the collection of bales and casks and crates with which the quay was piled, nor did his look resemble that of the merchant, who may be full of dignity, as he is full of responsibility, but is never cold and haughty. His secret purpose, as I afterwards understood, was to ascertain the true nature of Molly's fortune, which he could not believe to be so great as had been represented to him. His professed purpose was to see what Captain Crowle was anxious to show him. The good old man, in fact, played the very game which this virtuous gentleman desired; he threw the girl—money, and lands, and ships, and all—at the feet of the very man who wanted the fortune, and for the sake of it would not scruple to bring misery upon the girl.
"I have heard," his lordship was saying, as he looked around and marked the crowd of porters, lightermen, and clerks running about, "of ships and shipping. There is a place near London, I believe, where they have ships. But I have never seen that part of town. My own friends own farms, not ships."
"Ships may be better than farms," the old sailor replied, stoutly. "You have frosts in May; hail in August; drought in spring—where are your farms then?"