The deed was no sooner done than I regretted—for Miss Hatherton’s sake—that I had gone to such extremities. But I made the best of it by quickly leading the girl away, and she clung tightly to my arm as we hurried through the curious group of people on the quay. To my relief, no one stopped us, and indeed the incident had attracted little attention. Looking back, I saw that Mr. Mackenzie was on his feet, the center of a small crowd who were bent on preventing him from following us.
It was not long before we were off the quay, and in the shelter of the quiet streets of the town. By a few words Miss Hatherton gave me to understand that she was aware of the arrangements made for her, and that the trunk was to be sent to the Silver Lily. Then she looked into my face with a sad and grateful smile that set my heart to fluttering.
“I am glad to have found such a friend and protector,” she said. “You have done me a great service, and one that I will not forget, Mr. Carew—I think that is your name. But I fear you have not seen the last of Mr. Mackenzie.”
“He will be wise to let the affair drop,” I replied. “I count it an honor and a pleasure, Miss Hatherton, that I had the opportunity of helping you. If the man seeks satisfaction, he shall have it.”
She glanced at me with some surprise, and with a tinge of amusement, I fancied.
“Are you a Canadian?” she asked.
“A native-born child of My Lady of the Snows,” said I.
“And you have never been in England?”
“No nearer than Quebec,” I answered.
“I should not have believed it,” she replied. Then, after a pause: “I met Cuthbert Mackenzie on board the Good Hope. He sailed with me from London, and from the first I disliked him. He constantly forced his attentions upon me, though he saw that they were hateful to me; and when I refused to have anything to do with him, he even went so far as to threaten. I hope I have seen the last of him.”