"You shall see that I will bring my aunt home to America with me, Captain Lancaster."
"Perhaps so; and yet I think she loves England—as much, I dare say, as you do America."
"I hope not, for what should we do in that case? I have only her, she has only me, and why should we live apart?"
"Do you mean to tell me that you have left behind you no relatives?" he said.
"I told you I had no one but Aunt West," she said, almost curtly.
"And she can scarcely be called your relative. I believe she was only your father's sister-in-law," he said.
"That is true," she replied.
"Then why go to her at all, since the kinship is but in name, and you would be happier in America?" he asked, with something of curiosity.
"Papa wished it," she replied, simply.
Then there was a brief silence. Leonora's lashes drooped, with the dew of unshed tears on them. The young face looked very sad in the soft evening light.
"She is almost alone in the world—poor child!" he thought.
"I want to ask you something," he said, impulsively.
"Yes," she said, listlessly.
"Was it because of those things we talked of just now—those aristocratic prejudices—that you have so severely ignored De Vere and me?"
"Not exactly," she replied, hesitatingly.
"Then, why?" he asked, gravely.
She looked up into the handsome blue eyes. They were regarding her very kindly. Something like a sob swelled her throat, but she said, as calmly as she could:
"I'll tell you the reason, Captain Lancaster. Do you remember the day we sailed, and what you and Lieutenant De Vere talked of that night over your cigars?"
"I remember," he replied, with an embarrassment it was impossible to hide.
The clear eyes looked up straight into his face.
"Well, then," she said, "I heard every word you said to each other there in the moonlight."
CHAPTER XIV
For the second time since he had met Leonora West, Captain Lancaster devoutly wished that the earth would open and hide him from the sight of those gray-blue eyes.
"I heard every word," she repeated, and his memory flew back anxiously to that night.
"Oh, impossible!" he cried. "You had retired. We were alone."
The fair cheek flushed warmly.
"I shall have to confess," she said. "But you must not judge me too hardly, Captain Lancaster."
He looked at her expectantly.
"I will tell you the truth," she said. "I went early to my state-room, because I was tired of Lieutenant De Vere. I wanted to be alone. But it was so warm and close in my room, I could not breathe freely. So I threw a dark shawl over me and went out on deck again. There was no one there. I slipped around in the shadow of the wheel-house and sat down."
"And then we came—De Vere and I," said Lancaster.
"Yes," she replied. "I was frightened at first, and shrank closer into the darkness. I did not want to be found out. I thought you would smoke your cigars and go away in a little while."
There was a minute's silence.
"I wish I had been a thousand miles away!" the captain thought, ruefully, to himself.
"So then you commenced to talk about me," continued Leonora. "I ought not to have listened, I know, but I could not make up my mind to interrupt you; it would have been so embarrassing, you know. So I kept still, hoping you would stop every minute, and thus I heard all."
"You heard nothing but kindness—you must grant that, at least," he said.
The red lips curled at the corners, whether with anger or feeling he could not tell.
"You were very condescending," she said, in a quiet, very demure little voice.
"Now, you wrong us—you do, indeed, Miss West," he cried, hotly. "We said the kindest things of you. You must own that Lieutenant De Vere paid you the highest compliment man can pay to woman."
A beautiful blush rose into the fair face, and her eyes drooped a moment.
"While we are upon the subject," he continued, hastily, "let me speak a word for my friend, Miss West. He is quite in earnest in his love for you, and you would do well to listen to his suit. He is in every way an unexceptionable suitor. There is everything in favor of him, personally, and he is of good birth, is the heir to a title, and last, but not least, has ten thousand a year of his own."
"Enough to buy him a more fitting bride than Mrs. West's niece," she said, with some bitterness, but more mirth, in her voice.
"Who could be more fitting than the one he has chosen?" asked Lancaster.
"It would be a mésalliance," she said, with her eyes full on his face as she quoted his words.
"In the world's eyes—yes," he answered, quietly. "But if you love him and he loves you, you need not care for the world," he said; and he felt the whole force of the words as he spoke them. He said to himself that any man who could afford to snap his fingers at fortune and marry Leonora West would be blessed.
She listened to his words calmly, and with an air of thoughtfulness, as if she were weighing them in her mind.
"And so," she said, when he had ceased speaking, "you advise me, Captain Lancaster, to follow up the good impression I have made on your friend, and to—to fall into his arms as soon as he asks me?"
He gave a gasp as if she had thrown cold water over him.
"Pray do not understand me as advising anything!" he cried, hastily. "I merely showed you the advantages of such a marriage; but, of course, I have no personal interest in the matter. I am no match-maker."
"No, of course not," curtly; then, with a sudden total change of the subject, she said: "Aren't we very near the end of our trip, Captain Lancaster?"
"You are tired?" he asked.
"Yes. It grows monotonous after the first day or two out," she replied.
"You might have had a better time if you had let De Vere and me amuse you," he said.
"Oh, I have been amused," she replied, frankly; and he wondered within himself what had amused her, but did not ask. She had a trick of saying things that chagrined him, because he did not understand them, and had a lingering suspicion that she was laughing at him.
"We shall see the end of our journey to-morrow, if we have good luck," he said, and she uttered an exclamation of pleasure.
"So soon? Ah, how glad I am! I wonder," reflectively, "what my aunt will think about me."
"She will be astonished, for one thing," he replied.
"Why?"
"Because I think she is expecting a child. She will be surprised to see a young lady."
"Poor papa!" a sigh; "he always called me his little girl. That is how the mistake has been made. Ah, Captain Lancaster, I can not tell you how much I miss my father!"
There was a tremor in the young voice. His heart thrilled with pity for her loneliness.
"I hope your aunt will be so kind to you that she will make up to you for his loss," he said.
"Tell me something about her," said Leonora.
"I am afraid I can not tell you much," he answered, with some embarrassment. "She is a good woman. I have heard Lady Lancaster say that much."
"Of course, you can not be expected to know much about a mere housekeeper," with a distinct inflection of bitterness in her voice. "Well, then, tell me about Lady Lancaster. Who is she?"
"She is the mistress of Lancaster Park."
"Is she nice?"
"She is old and ugly and cross and very rich. Is all that nice, as you define it?"
"No; only the last. It is nice to be rich, of course. That goes without saying. Well, then, is there a master?"
"A master?" vaguely.
"Of Lancaster Park, I mean."
"Oh, yes."
"And is he old and ugly and cross and rich?" pursued Miss West, curiously.
"He is all but the last," declared Lancaster, unblushingly. "He is as poor as Job's turkey. That is not nice, is it?"
"I know some people who are poor, but very, very nice," said the girl, with a decided air.