"Not that I saw," said David, incredulously.

"What! didn't you see her give me a look?"

"Yes, I did. But what has that to do with it?"

"That look was as much as to say, Please stay a little longer; I have something to say to you."

"Good Heavens!"

"I think it is about a bonnet, David. I asked her to put me in the way of getting one made like hers. She does wear heavenly bonnets."

"Ay. I did well to listen to you, Eve; you see I can't even read her face, much less her heart. I saw her look up, but that was all. How is a poor fellow to make out such craft as these, that can signal one another a whole page with a flash of the eye? Ah!"

"There, David, he is going. Was I right?"

Mr. Talboys was, in fact, taking leave of Miss Fountain. The old gentleman convoyed his friend. As the door closed on them Miss Fountain's face seemed to catch fire. Her sweet complacency gave way to a half-joyous, half-irritated small energy. She came gliding swiftly, though not hurriedly, up to Eve. "Thank you for seeing." Then she settled softly and gradually on an ottoman, saying, "Now, Mr.

Dodd."

David looked puzzled. "What is it?" and he turned to his interpreter, Eve.

But it was Lucy who replied: "'His messmate was crying like a child.

At sunrise poor Tom must die. Then up rose one fellow' (we have not any idea who one fellow means in these narratives--have we, Miss Dodd?) 'and cried, "I have it, messmates. Tom isn't dead yet."' Now, Mr. Dodd, between that sentence and the one that is to follow all that has happened in this room was a hideous dream. On that understanding we have put up with it. It is now happily dispersed, and we--go ahead again."

"I see, Eve, she thinks she would like some more of that China yarn."

"Her sentiments are not so tame. She longs for it, thirsts for it, and must and will have it--if you will be so very obliging, Mr. Dodd." The contrast between all this singular vivacity of Miss Fountain and the sudden return to her native character and manner in the last sentence struck the sister as very droll--seemed to the brother so winning, that, scarcely master of himself, he burst out: "You shan't ask me twice for that, or anything I can give you;" and it was with burning cheeks and happy eyes he resumed his tale of bold adventure and skill on one side, of numbers, danger and difficulty on the other. He told it now like one inspired, and both the young ladies hung panting and glowing on his words.

David and Eve went home together.

David was in a triumphant state, but waited for Eve to congratulate him. Eve was silent.

At last David could refrain no longer. "Why, you say nothing."

"No. Common sense is too good to be wasted; don't go so fast."

"No. There--I heave to for convoy to close up. Would it be wasted on me? ha! ha!"

"To-night. There you go pelting on again."

"Eve, I can't help it. I feel all canvas, with a cargo of angels'

feathers and sunshine for ballast."

"Moonshine."

"Sun, moon, and stars, and all that is bright by night or day. I'll tell you what to do; you keep your head free, and come on under easy sail; I'll stand across your bows with every rag set and drawing, so then I shall be always within hail."

This sober-minded maneuver was actually carried out. The little corvette sailed steadily down the middle of the lane; the great merchantman went pitching and rolling across her bows; thus they kept together, though their rates of sailing were so different.

Merry Eve never laughed once, but she smiled, and then sighed.

David did not heed her. All of a moment his heart vented itself in a sea-ditty so loud, and clear, and mellow, that windows opened, and out came nightcapped heads to hear him carol the l.u.s.ty stave, making night jolly.

Meantime, the weather being balmy, Mr. Fountain had walked slowly with Mr. Talboys in another direction. Mr. Talboys inquired, "Who were these people?"

"Oh, only two humble neighbors," was the reply.

"I never met them anywhere. They are received in the neighborhood?"

"Not in society, of course."

"I don't understand you. Have not I just met them here?"

"That is not the way to put it," said the old gentleman, a little confused. "You did not meet them; you did me and my niece the honor to dine with us, and the Dodds dropped in to tea--quite another matter."

"Oh, is it?"

"Is it not? I see you have been so long out of England you have forgotten these little distinctions; society would go to the deuce without them. We ask our friends, and persons of our own cla.s.s, to dinner, but we ask who we like to tea in this county. Don't you like her? She is the prettiest girl in the village."

"Pretty and pert."

"Ha! ha! that is true. She is saucy enough, and amusing in proportion."

"It is the man I alluded to."

"What, David? ay, a very worthy lad. He is a downright modest, well-informed young man."

"I don't doubt his general merits, but let me ask you a serious question: his evident admiration of Miss Fountain?"

"His ad-mi-ration of Miss Fountain?"

"Is it agreeable to you?"

"It is a matter of consummate indifference to me."

"But not, I think, to her. She showed a submission to the cub's impertinence, and a desire to please instead of putting him down, that made me suspect. Do you often ask Mr. Dodd--what a name!--to tea?"

"My dear friend, I see that, with all your accomplishments, you have something to learn. You want insight into female character. Now I, who must go to school to you on most points, can be of use to you here."

Then, seeing that Talboys was mortified at being told thus gently there was a department of learning he had not fathomed, he added: "At all events, I can interpret my own niece to you. I have known her much longer than you have."

Mr. Talboys requested the interpreter to explain the pleasure his niece took in Mr. Dodd's fiddle.

"Part politeness, part sham. Why, she wanted not to ask them this evening, the fiddle especially. I'll give you the clue to Lucy; she is a female Chesterfield, and the droll thing is she is polite at heart as well. Takes it from her mother: she was something between an angel and a d.u.c.h.ess."

"Politeness does not account for the sort of partiality she showed for these Dodds while I was in the room."

"Pure imagination, my dear friend. I was there; and had so monstrous a phenomenon occurred I must have seen it. If you think she could really prefer their society to yours, you are as unjust to her as yourself.

She may have concealed her real preference out of _finesse,_ or perhaps she has observed that our inferiors are touchy, and ready to fancy we slight them for those of our own rank."