Part 141 (1/2)

”Can you tell me whether Mr. George G.o.dolphin has come on board yet?”

”Mr. George G.o.dolphin,” repeated the young officer, cutting short some directions midway, and looking half bewildered in the general disorder.

”Bound for Calcutta,” explained Charlotte.

”I can inquire. Tymms,” beckoning to him one of the middies, ”go and ask the steward whether a gentleman of the name of G.o.dolphin has come down.”

But there was no need of further search. Charlotte's restless eyes had caught sight of George--the solitary pa.s.senger in mourning whom you saw standing alone. She and Mr. Pain made the best of their way to him, over the impediments blocking up the deck.

He did not see their approach. He was leaning over the vessel on the side opposite to that facing the sh.o.r.e, and Charlotte gave him a smart rap on the arm with her gauntlet-glove.

”Now, Mr. George G.o.dolphin! what do you say for your manners!”

He turned quickly, his face flus.h.i.+ng slightly with surprise when he saw them standing there: and he shook hands with them both.

”I ask what you have to say for your manners, Mr. George? The very idea of your leaving England for good, and never calling to say good-bye to us!”

”I met Mr. Pain a day or two ago,” said George. ”He----”

”Met Mr. Pain! what on earth if you did!” interrupted Charlotte. ”Mr.

Pain's not me. You might have found time to dine with us. I have a great mind to quarrel with you, George G.o.dolphin, by way of leave-taking.”

Something like a smile crossed George's lips. ”The fact is, I thought I might have seen you at the Verralls', Mrs. Pain. I went there for half an hour yesterday. I charged Mrs. Verrall----”

”Rubbis.h.!.+” retorted Charlotte. ”When you must have known we had moved into a house at Shooter's Hill, you could not suppose we were still at the Verralls'. Our catching you this morning here was a mere chance. We stayed late in town yesterday afternoon at the furniture warehouse, and, in driving back down the Strand, saw Isaac Hastings, so I pulled up to ask what had become of you, and whether you were dead or alive. He informed us you were to sail to-day from Gravesend, and I told Dolf I should drive down. But it _is_ ill-mannered of you, Mr. George.”

”You will readily understand, that since my last return from Prior's Ash, I have not felt inclined for visiting,” he said in a low grave tone, unconsciously glancing at his black attire. ”I intended you no discourtesy, Mrs. Pain: but, for one thing, I did not know where you might be met with.”

”And couldn't find out!” retorted Charlotte. ”Dolf could have given you the address, I suppose, the other day, had you asked. He's too great a fool to think to give it of his own accord.”

George looked at ”Dolf,” whom his wife seemed so completely to ignore; looked at him with a pleasant smile, as if he would atone for Charlotte's rudeness. ”We were not together a minute, were we, Mr. Pain?

I was in a hurry, and you seemed in one also.”

”Don't say any more about it, Mr. G.o.dolphin,” spoke Dolf, as resentfully as he dared. ”That's just like her! Making a fuss over nothing! Of course you could not be expected to visit at such a time: and any one but Charlotte would have the good feeling to see it. I am pleased to be able to see you here, and wish you a pleasant voyage; but I remonstrated with her this morning, that it was scarcely the right thing to intrude upon you. But she never listens, you know.”

”_You_ needn't have come,” snapped Charlotte.

”And then you would have gone on at me about my bad manners, as you have to Mr. G.o.dolphin! One never knows how to please you, Charlotte.”

George resumed: to break the silence possibly, more than from any other motive. ”Have you settled at Shooter's Hill?”

”Settled!” shrieked Charlotte; ”settled at Shooter's Hill! Where it's ten miles, good, from a theatre or any other place of amus.e.m.e.nt! No, thank you. A friend of Verrall's had this place to let for a few weeks, and Dolf was idiot enough to take it----”

”You consented first, Charlotte,” interrupted poor Dolf.

”Which I never should have done had I reflected on the bother of getting up to town,” said Charlotte equably. ”Settled at Shooter's Hill! I'd as soon do as you are going to do, Mr. George--bury myself alive in Calcutta. We have taken on lease a charming house in Belgravia, and shall enter on a succession of dinner-parties: one a week we think of giving during the season. We shall not get into it much before February: it takes some time to choose furniture.”

”I hate dinner-parties,” said Dolf ruefully.