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Updated: May 9, 2025
Did you think I was in love with her?" "Why," stammered Dunham, "I supposed I thought At Messina, you know " "Oh!" Staniford walked the deck's length away. "Well, Dunham," he said, as he came back, "you've spoilt a pretty scene with your rot about Mrs. Rivers. I was going to be romantic!
Give that girl a winter among nice people in Boston, and you would never know that she was not born on Beacon Hill." "Oh, I doubt that," said Dunham. "You doubt it? Pessimist!" "But you implied just now that she had no sensibility," pursued Dunham. "So I did!" cried Staniford, cheerfully.
Hicks's behavior really gave no grounds for reproach; and it was only his moral mechanism, as Staniford called the character he constructed for him, which he could blame; nevertheless, the thought of him gave an oblique cast to Staniford's reflections, which he cut short by saying, "This sort of worship is every woman's due in girlhood; but I suppose a fortnight of it will make her a pert and silly coquette.
But she's a pretty creature, and as good as she's pretty." "I remember agreeing with you on those points before." Staniford feigned to suppress fatigue. Dunham observed him. "I know you don't take so much interest in her as as the rest of us do, and I wish you did. You don't know what a lovely nature she is." "No?" "No; and I'm sure you'd like her." "Is it important that I should like her?
But perhaps I'd better say in ordinary newspaper English that I've just found out that I'm in love with Miss Blood." "With her!" cried Dunham, springing at his hand. "Oh, come now! Don't you be romantic, after knocking my chance." "Why, but Staniford!" said Dunham, wringing his hand with a lover's joy in another's love and his relief that it was not Mrs. Rivers.
"If this fine weather holds," said Staniford, "and you continue as obliging as you are to-night, you can say, when people ask you how you went to Europe, that you walked the greater part of the way. Shall you continue so obliging? Will you walk with me every fine night?" pursued Staniford. "Do you think I'd better say so?" she asked, with the joy still in her voice. "Oh, I can't decide for you.
Staniford bore his part in the responses from the same prayer-book with Captain Jenness, who kept up a devout, inarticulate under-growl, and came out strong on particular words when he got his bearings through his spectacles. Hicks and the first officer silently shared another prayer-book, and Lydia offered half hers to Mr. Mason.
"If I've come to you in the wrong moment if you are vexed at anything, I'll go away, and beg your pardon for boring you." Staniford was touched; he looked cordially into his friend's face. "I was vexed at something, but you never can come to me at the wrong moment, old fellow. I beg your pardon.
It was still a terrible question, but it offered a loop-hole of escape, which Staniford was swift to seize. Let those who will justify the answer with which he smiled into her solemn eyes: "I will leave you to say." A generous uncandor like this goes as far with a magnanimous and serious-hearted woman as perhaps anything else. "Oh, I knew it, I knew it!" cried Lydia.
"No, not if we're to live in it," answered the girl, with the soberer wisdom women keep at such times. "It will have to be known how we met. What will people say? They will laugh." "I don't think they will in my presence," said Staniford, with swelling nostrils. "They may use their pleasure elsewhere." "And I shouldn't care for their laughing, either," said Lydia. "But oh, why did you come?"
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