Part 4 (1/2)
In age from ten to twelve, he was slightly though strongly built, and carried himself erect as a soldier. The dress which Vyner at first thought was entirely made of skins was only in reality trimmed with these, being an attempt to make the clothes he had long worn sufficiently large for him. His cap alone was of true island make, and was a conical contrivance of undressed seal-skin, which really had as savage a look as need be.
”Do you live on this island, my little fellow?” asked Vyner, with a kindly accent.
”Yes,” said he, calmly, as he looked up full into his face.
”And have you always lived here?”
”So long as I remember.”
”Where do you live?”
”On the other side of the mountain--at St. Finbar's Abbey.”
”May I ask your name?”
”My name,” said the boy, proudly, ”is Harry Grenville Luttrell.”
”Are you a Luttrell?” cried Vyner, as he laid his hand affectionately on the boy's shoulders; but the little fellow seemed not to like the familiarity, and stepped back to escape it.
”Are you the son of John Hamilton Luttrell?”
”Yes. What is your name?”
”Mine,” said the other, repressing a smile--”mine is Gervais Vyner.”
”And do you own this s.h.i.+p?”
”Yes.”
”And why have you come here?”
”Partly by chance--partly through curiosity.”
”And when will you go away?”
”Something will depend on the weather--something on whether we like the place and find it agreeable to us; but why do you ask? Do you wish we should go away?”
”The people do! I do not care!”
It is not easy to give an idea of the haughty dignity with which he spoke the last words. They were like the declaration of one who felt himself so secure in station, that he could treat the accidents of the day as mere trifles.
”But why should the people wish it? We are not very likely to molest or injure them.”
”That much you may leave to themselves,” said the boy, insolently.
”They'll not let you do it.”
”You seem very proud of your island, my little man! Have you any brothers or sisters?”
”No--none.”