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Updated: July 16, 2025
I'm a bit past it. I'm not here for pleasure, you know." This seemed to have the effect of sending Lord Seahampton off into a brown study not apparently of great value so far as depth of thought was concerned. He looked as if he were wondering whether he himself was in Barcelona for pleasure or not. "No," he murmured encouragingly, "It is like this," pursued Captain Bontnor, confidentially.
He was looking straight in front of him with that painful look of helplessness which had earned him the friendship of Lord Seahampton in Barcelona. "But," said the girl at length, "you cannot go to sea again." She knew that he would never get a ship, for his seamanship, like all other things that were his, was hopelessly superannuated.
He fumbled at his necktie for a moment with unsteady, weather-beaten hands. "But I shouldn't like to trespass on your time. I take it you're here for pleasure?" Lord Seahampton smiled. "Yes, I'm here for pleasure; that's what I'm in the world for." Still Captain Bontnor hesitated. "You might meet some of your friends," he began tentatively, "in the streets, you know."
"My sister, Amelia Ann, married above her." "Very much to her credit," said Lord Seahampton, with a stolid face and a twinkle in his eye. "And " "Died." "Dear, dear!" "Yes," pursued the captain, "she died nineteen years ago, leaving a little girl. He's dead now Mr. Challoner. He's my brother-in-law, but I call him Mr. Challoner, because he's above me."
The poor old man was soon upset by insignificant trifles, and after he had given way to a little burst of petulance like this, he had a strange, half pathetic way of staring straight in front of him for a few seconds, as if collecting himself again. It happened that Lord Seahampton was a good-natured young man, with rather a soft heart, such as many horsey persons possess.
Out of sheer good nature, and with a vague question in his mind as to whether Miss Challoner knew what sort of help she had called in, Lord Seahampton obtained the necessary information no easy matter in this country and took the necessary ticket.
Ticket and information alike were obtained from a grave gentleman who smoked a cigarette, and did the honours of his little office as if it had been a palace showing no desire to sell the ticket, and taking payment as if he were conferring a distinct favour. The steamer left that same afternoon, and Lord Seahampton sent his protege back rejoicing to the hotel to pack up.
"I trust he is," said Lord Seahampton, cheerfully, with a glance at the painted ceiling. "I trust he is." The captain chuckled. "I mean in a social way," he explained. "And now he's dead, his daughter Eve is left quite alone in the world, and she telegraphed for me. She is living in the Island of Majorca." "Ah!" The kindly old blue eyes flashed round on his companion's face. "Do you know it?"
I knew who wrote them, and am still one of their profoundest admirers, but, like John Craik, I am well content that the gifted author should turn her attention to other things, notably to my godson, to whom salutations. Did either of you ever meet young Lord Seahampton, an excellent fellow, with the appearance of a cleanly groom and the heart of a true knight?
"Rather like the look of them," said Lord Seahampton, taking one and cutting the end off with a certain show of eagerness. This young man's reputation for personal bravery was a known quantity on the hunting-field. "Old sailors," he continued, "generally know good tobacco." And all the while he had half-a-dozen of the best Havanas in his pocket.
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