But now, there sat Hortense in the stern, melted into whatever best she was capable of; it had come into her face, her face was to be read--for the first time since I had known it--and, strangely enough, I couldn’t read John’s at all. It seemed happy, which was impossible.
“Way enough!” he cried suddenly, and, at his command, the sailor and I took in our oars. Here was Hermana’s gangway, and crowding faces above, and ejaculations and tears from Kitty. Yes, Hortense would have liked that return voyage to last longer. I was first on the gangway, and stood to wait and give them a hand out; but she lingered, and; rising slowly, spoke her first word to him, softly:--
“And so I restore it to you complete,” said John, instantly.
None could have heard it but myself--unless the sailor, beyond whose comprehension it was--and I doubted for a moment if I could have heard right; but it was for a moment only. Hortense stood stiff, and then, turning, came in front of him, and I read her face for an instant longer before the furious hate in it was mastered to meet her father’s embrace, as I helped her up the gang.
“Daughter mine!” said the General, with a magnificent break in his voice.
But Hortense was game to the end. She took Kitty’s-hysterics and the men’s various grades of congratulation; her word to Gazza would have been supreme, but for his imperishable rejoinder.
“I told you you wouldn’t jump,” was what she said.
Gazza stretched both arms, pointing to John. “But a native! He was surer to find you!”
At this they all remembered John, whom they thus far hadn’t thought of.
“Where is that lion-hearted boy?” the General called out.
John hadn’t got out of the boat; he thought he ought to change his clothes, he said; and when Charley, truly astonished, proffered his entire wardrobe and reminded him of lunch, it was thank you very much, but if he could be put ashore--I looked for Hortense, to see what she would do, but Hortense, had gone below with Kitty to change her clothes, and the genuinely hearty protestations from all the rest brought merely pleasantly firm politeness from John, as he put on again the coat he had flung off on jumping. At least he would take a drink, urged Charley. Yes, thank you, he would; and he chose brandy-and-soda, of which he poured himself a remarkably stiff one. Charley and I poured ourselves milder ones, for the sake of company.