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In a short time Christian Vellacott bore the outward semblance of a very fair specimen of the British tar, except that his cheeks were bleached and sunken, which discrepancy was promptly commented upon by the blunt old sailor. Breakfast, as served up by Tom, was of a noble simplicity.
He unwittingly fell to studying his fellow-men whenever the opportunity presented itself, and the result of this habit was a certain classification of detail. He picked up little scraps of evidence here and there, and these were methodically pigeon-holed away, as a lawyer stores up the correspondence of his clients. With regard to Frederick Farrar, Vellacott had only made one note.
"It was," she whispered, "because I thought so myself." "And when I was gone you found out that you had made a mistake?" "Yes; he was so kind, so brave, Christian because he knew of my mistake." Christian Vellacott turned away, and looked thoughtfully out of the window. "Well," he said, after a pause, "so long as you do not suffer by it " "Oh h," she gasped, as if he were whipping her.
"As you go down to the refectory," he said, "kindly make a request that Mr. Vellacott be sent to me as soon as he is refreshed. I do not want you to see him before I do!" When the door had closed behind Rene Drucquer the Provincial rose from his seat and slowly paced backwards and forwards from the door to the table.
As Christian crossed the room the Provincial rose and bowed slightly, with one of his slow, soft glances. Then he indicated the chair at the left-hand side of the table, and said, without looking up: "Be good enough Mr. Vellacott." When they were both seated the Provincial suddenly raised his eyes and fixed them upon the Englishman's face.
Christian Vellacott was one of those men whose litheness is greater than their actual muscular force; but a lithe man possesses greater powers of endurance than a powerful fellow whose muscles are more highly developed.
At this moment there was a rumble of carriage wheels. "By the way," said the editor of the Beacon, raising his voice so as to command universal attention, "do not tell the Vicomte d'Audierne about Vellacott. Do not let him know that Vellacott has been here. Do not tell him of my connection with the Beacon." The ladies barely had time to reconsider their first impression of Mr.
It seemed as if the man lying upon that little bed was in no way connected with the wiry, energetic Christian Vellacott of old. As he lay there semi-somnolent and lazily comfortable from sheer weakness, his interest in life was of a speculative description, as if he looked on things from afar off. Nothing seemed to matter much.
He sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the rail, and his rough blue jersey wrinkled up so that he could keep one hand in his pocket. The priest turned to look at him with a sudden fear that his motives might be misread. Vellacott interpreted his movement thus, for he spoke at once with a smile on his face.
Vellacott, Signor Bruno!" Sidney's friend, Mr. Vellacott, was by this time behind her. He had alighted, and was employed in arranging the back seat of the dog-cart. When Signor Bruno looked towards him, he found Christian's eyes fixed upon his face with a quiet persistence which might have been embarrassing to a younger man.
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