“The triumph at least is true,” said Anna, “now she has her way about the nursing.”
“Yes, she is to try it for a year, while Cousins Fernan and Marilda go out to their farm in the Rocky Mountains.”
Just then there was a little commotion, and a report came up that a boat had been run down and some one drowned. Somebody said, “One of those acting last night--a buccaneer.” Somebody else, “A naval man.” Then it was “The Buccaneer Captain,” and Mrs. Pettifer was exclaiming, “Poor Captain Armytage! He was in our theatricals, I remember, but they thought him rather high. But he was a fine young man! Poor Captain Armytage!”
Lance had sufficient interests in those at sea to be anxious, and turned his steps to the gates to ascertain the facts, when he was overtaken by Gillian, with a hat hastily thrown over her snooded hair and Highland garb, hurrying along, and looking very white.
“Mr. Underwood! Oh! did you hear who it was?”
“No certainty. I was going down to find out. You,” as he saw her purpose, “had better not come. There will be a great crowd. I will come back and tell you.”
Her hands trembled so that she could hardly undo the private fastening of Miss Mohun’s garden, and she began to dash down the cliff steps. Just at the turn, where the stair-way was narrowest, Lance heard her exclaim, and saw that she had met face to face no other than Captain Armytage himself.
“Oh! is it?” and she so tottered on the rocky step that the hand he had put out in greeting became a support, and a tender one, as Lance said (perhaps with a little _malice_)--
“We heard that the Buccaneer Captain had come to grief.”
“I?” he laughed; and Gillian shook herself up, asking--
“Weren’t you run down?” seeing even as she spoke that not a drop of wet was traceable.
“Me! What! did you think I was going to peril my life in a ‘longshore concern like this?” said he, with a merry laugh, betraying infinite pleasure.
“But did nothing happen? Nobody drowned?” she asked, half disappointed.
“Not a mouse! A little chap, one of the fairies yesterday, tumbled off the sea-wall where he had no business to be, but he swam like a cork. We threw him a rope and hauled him up.”
Wherewith he gave his arm to Gillian, who was still trembling, and clasped it so warmly that Lance thought it expedient to pass them as soon as possible and continue his journey on the staircase, giving a low whistle of amusement, and pausing to look out on the beautiful blue bay, crowded with the white sails of yachts and pleasure-boats, with brilliant festoons of little flags, and here and there the feather of steam from a launch. He could look, for he was feeling lighter of heart now that the communication was over.