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  Vera was in a state of bewilderment, caring a great deal more for herself and her own sensations than for any of her surroundings; and her next question was, "When do you think we shall be out of this?"

  "We shall put into harbour somewhere as soon as the wind lulls. We cannot venture yet, though we do steam; and then we can telegraph. I am longing to relieve Miss Prescott. We can take you home all the way. We were on our way into Rock Quay to take up Mysie Merrifield if she can go. It really was a wonderful and most merciful thing that we made you out just as it was getting light before running you down. My father saw you first, and old Griggs would hardly believe it, but then we heard Mr. Delrio's hail! But it was a terrible business getting you up the ship's side."

  "I did not know anything about it. It was so dreadful in the lightning. And my new hat was blown away. And what is become of all my clothes?"

  "Mrs. Griggs has them, and is drying them. We will lend you a hat to land in."

  "Oh, when we do! I wish I had never got into that boat, but Hubert Delrio did persuade me so."

  "And he is an old friend?"

  "Yes, he is come to paint the roof of St. Kenelm's Church, and we want to be attentive to him because my eldest sister would be sure to be cross and keep him at a distance, being only that sort of wall painter, you know, and his father a drawing master."

  "My father is very much pleased with him, and thinks him a very superior young man. They have been sitting on deck together, talking as much as they could about architecture and Italy, with their breath all blown away every moment. There! You are really getting better! If you would eat something and come on deck you would be well! I will call the sea gnat, and see what we have."

  It was all very wonderful to Vera; and she began to be interested and to forget her troubles. A slice of very salt ham was brought to her and a glass of something, she did not know what, and asked if she could have some tea.

  "You could have tea if you like, but there's no milk. You see, we ought to have been in at Rock Quay yesterday evening, and our stores were not adapted to hold out any longer! We shall have another curious experience, though Mrs. Griggs says it won't be so bad as once when they were off the coast of Ireland, and when they put into a bay with a queer name, all Kill and Bally, they could get nothing but potatoes and goat's milk."

  "Who is Mrs. Griggs?"

  "She is wife to the sailing master; and, like the Norsemen, her home is on the wave, at least in the yacht, for she always lives in it, and her cabin is quite a sight; she is great fun, she cooks when there is anything to cook, and is stewardess and everything. Francie and I knew a maid would be a vain encumbrance, so we are taking care of ourselves, and, if you will let me, I will try and set your hair to rights."

  It was in a fearful tangle, after five hours at sea, and many more in the berth in the cabin; but Vera was able to sit up in a dainty dressing-gown, and submit to treatment not quite that of a hairdresser, but made as lively as could be by little jokes and kindly apologies at any extra hard pull at the knots, which really seemed "as if a witch had twined them;" and the two began to feel well acquainted with each other over the operation, though Vera was somewhat impressed when she observed that the brush was ivory handled.

  Her bicycling skirt was in tolerable condition, but her once delicate blue blouse was past renovation, so she was invested with a borrowed white one, and led in triumph to the saloon, just as the beautiful "Francie" came to call "Phyllis," and give a helping hand. There were two gentlemen besides Hubert Delrio, and there was a general rejoicing welcome; but Vera did not think Hubert made half enough inquiries or apologies, before she was seated at the table, where everything was secured, and the fare was not very sumptuous or various, being chiefly some concoction of rice and scraps of salt beef, which Francie said was a shame, eating up the poor sailors' fare; also there was potted meat, and cheese, but all the fresh bread was gone, and they praised Mrs. Griggs' construction of ham and rice with all the warmth and drollery each could contribute. Vera began to be puzzled as to who every one was, for no names except Phyl, Fly, Francie and Ivy were heard, and the merry grey-haired head of the family was "Father" or "Papa" to every one, except of course Mr. Delrio, who, however, seemed at his ease, and took a fair share in the talk, and once or twice Vera thought he said, "my lord," but she did not believe it.

  "I find you are a friend of a special pet of mine, Mysie Merrifield," said the father.

  "I know her a little," stammered Vera, "but Primrose best."

  "Nearer your age, eh? But Mysie is our gem! It looks fit for going on deck."

  After the apology for a dinner, the young married pair went their way, he to endeavour to add a fish to their provisions, she to look on; the father and Delrio went where the latter could best study the wonderful tints of sunset over the purple retreating clouds, and the still agitated foaming sea,-sights that seemed to be filling him with enchantment, and revealing effects in colour, while his delight was evidently a new pleasure to his companion.

  Vera was afraid to move, and sat on a deck chair, with her back to the sunset, while Phyllis, who perhaps would have liked to share in the admiration, sat by her, so that Vera began to accept her as a special friend, and to pour out the explanation of how she came to be tossing in an open boat with this one companion.

  "You see, poor fellow," she said, simpering, "he has been always so devoted to me. Everybody observed it, and I could not help just gratifying him a little."

  "He does seem to be very full of promise," said Phyllis. "I suppose Miss Prescott is much pleased with him."

  "My sister Magdalen, do you mean? Well, we have not introduced him to her yet. You see, he is only painting the church, and she is so devoted to swells, and makes such a fuss about our manners."

  "Indeed! But surely you could not go out with him without her knowing it."

  "She was not at this St. Milburgha's Guild, you know, and Sisters Beata and Mena knew all about it. Oh, yes, she lets us go to them at St. Kenelm's, but they are not swells enough for her."

  "Mr. Flight's Sisterhood, are not they?"

  "And Primrose Merrifield says that Wilfred declares that they are not ladies; but that's all jealousy, you know, because Will doesn't like my friends, and Magdalen is altogether gone upon grandees."

  "Fancy!" was all that Phyllis managed to say.

  "She doesn't want us to be friends with anybody who don't belong to some one with a handle to her name. So foolish and stuck up! So we knew she would not be kind to Hubert."

  "I think you had better have tried. I thought her one of the kindest people in the world."

  "Ah! but, you know, unfortunately she has been a governess, and that teaches toadying."

  At that moment "Phyl" was called to see the first star over the sea, and ran up to her father, so as to conceal how nearly she was laughing. Hubert Delrio came towards Vera.

  "Can you forgive me, Vera?" he said. "I shall speak to your sister as soon as I am at home, and ask her forgiveness, and-"

  "Oh, yes! yes! But do tell me who these people are."

  "Did you not know? That most kind of men, is Lord Rotherwood. Those are Lord and Lady Ivinghoe, and-"

  "Lady Phyllis! Oh!"

  CHAPTER XIII-CHIMERAS DIRE

  "Qu'allait-il faire dans cette galère?"

  FRENCH COMEDY.

  Vera's first thorough awakening the next morning was to hear outside the door, "Are you up, Fly?"

  "I shall be in a minute or two. Do you want me?"

  "You are a dab at parlez-vous. I want you to come ashore with me and cater for the starving crew."

  "What fun! Anon, anon, Sir!"

  Vera then perceived that she had been bestowed in Lady Phyllis' cabin, and that the proper owner was dressing herself in haste before the little shelf of a toilette table. So great had been the confusion of last night's discovery that the poor silly child had only thought of hurrying out of sight and tumbling into bed without speaking to any one, and she had not distinctly k
nown, when Lady Phyllis came down a good deal later and disposed of herself on the sofa, that Mrs. Griggs had made ready for her. And now the only thing she could think of was to say, "Oh! Lady Phyllis, I didn't know."

  "Take care! Don't knock your head! We ought to have remembered that Boreas, or whichever it was, was hardly a sufficient introduction. Are you all right now? You had better go to sleep again till I bring something to eat. We are lying to off some little Breton fishing village, and I am going with my brother to get some provisions, and telegraph if we can."

  It was long before they came back. Vera had another nap, dressed herself, grew very hungry, and came out to find Lord Rotherwood fishing, and his daughter-in-law watching for the boat to put out from the white houses with grey roofs, which, clustered round their church-tower, seemed descending to the water's edge. They were equally famished, though Mrs. Griggs stewed up the poor remnants of last night's banquet; but at last the little boat appeared, gaily dancing over the waves, and Phyllis making signals of success.

  "Oh, yes, you may be thankful, you poor starving beings! Here, Mrs. Griggs! Accept, and do all you can! Here are eggs, and some milk and fresh water, four poulets, such as they are, and a huge monster of a crab; but all the bread is leavened, and you little guess what Ivy and I had to go through before we were allowed to buy anything. We were had up to the Mayor, and had to constater all manner of things about our ship, to prove that we were no smugglers."

  "I thought the fat old rogue would have come out to visit the yacht before he would have allowed us a morsel," said Lord Ivinghoe.

  "In which case you might have been found a skeleton, father, like Sir Hugh Willoughby! And as to our telegrams, they won't go till the diligence gets to St. Malo, and what they will make of them there is another question. I did not dare to send more than one, for fear they should get mixed up.

  Vera heard the joyous chaff as it fluttered round her, not half understanding it any more than if it had been a strange tongue, and not always guessing the cause of the fits of laughter, chiefly at Lord Ivinghoe's misadventures, over which his little sister and his father were well pleased to tease his correctness, and his young wife looked a little hurt at his being tormented. He could not remember that braconnier was a poacher by land, not by sea, and very unnecessarily disclaimed to the Maire being such a thing. His father, he said, "was gentilhomme anglais en-what's a yacht?- yac. (Nonsense! that's a long-haired ox. No!) Non point contrabandiste, mais galérien dans galère." "And there I interposed," said Phyllis, "for fear we should be boarded as escaped galériens."

  "Why, galley was a pleasure-boat sometimes," said Ivinghoe, and his wife supported him with "Cleopatra's galley."

  "Well done, Francie! To your oars for Ivy's defence," said Lord Rotherwood. "How did you defend us, Fly, from being towed into harbour at Brest as runaway convicts?"

  "She gabbled away most eloquently to the Maire, almost as fluently as a born French-woman," said Ivinghoe, "and persuaded him at last that it was not necessary to come on board to inspect us, nor even to detain us till he had sent for instructions to St. Malo."

  "As Ivy managed matters, I thought we might be kept as hostages," said Phyllis.

  "But, thanks to her blandishments, the solemn official vouchsafed to send off a messenger for us with a telegram."

  "I do not think he sent directions to pursue our suspicious galère," added Phyllis; "but I own I shall be glad to be under the lee of old England again."

  "What was your telegram?"

  "Brevity was safest, nor had we money enough for two; so all I attempted was, 'Delrio to Flight, Rock Quay. Both safe. Picked up by Kittiwake.' I thought that would be the quickest means of relieving anxiety, as we were not sure of other addresses; and as to 'home,' Mamma probably hardly was aware of the storm, or, if she were, she knew the capabilities of yachts and of Griggs."

  "Right!" returned his father. "Poor Miss Prescott! she must have given you up for lost. Have you been improving your mind with French telegrams?" he added, turning to Delrio.

  "No, my lord, I found my way to the church, a wonderful piece of old Norman!-if it may so be called."

  "I see you have been sketching."

  Griggs here interposed with tidings that eggs and coffee were ready in the saloon, the worthy pair having had respect to the general famine, and prepared what could be made ready in haste. Those who had eaten ashore sat by, making an amusing account of their reception, and difficulties with language and peasants, for, this not being an ordinary place of call, nothing was ready for sale.

  Vera, finding herself for the first time in distinguished company, which desired to set her at ease, began to be at ease, and to desire to shine, so she giggled whenever she perceived the slightest excuse, even when Lord Ivinghoe handed her the eggs, and, hoped she had not too British an appetite for French eggs; and Lady Ivinghoe asked if she had seen the fowls, and whether their feathers were ruffled up like a hen's that had been given to Aunt Cherry. Her little sister Joan, she added, had asked whether eating the eggs would make her hair curl.

  "Or stand on end," said Phyllis.

  "As I am afraid Miss Prescott's is doing till your telegram reaches her. Did you say it was to go from St. Malo?"

  "Yes. I thought that the safest place to have a comprehensible message copied."

  "To whom did you say?" asked Lady Ivinghoe.

  "'Delrio to Flight.' Oh, they will know his name and address fast enough when it gets to Rock Quay."

  "He is the clergyman at St. Kenelm's," put in Vera, in explanation; "very very advanced Ritualist, you know."

  "Indeed!" was the answer.

  "Oh, yes, that he is. My sister Polly is perfectly devoted to him; but we don't go to his church, except now and then, because my eldest sister is just one of those very old-fashioned people, you know, who want everything horrid and dull."

  "That is hardly what our cousins think of Miss Prescott," said Phyllis. "I am so sorry for her anxiety! But I was not sure of the name of her place."

  "The Goyle! Isn't it frightful?" said Vera.

  "You say she was unprepared for your adventure?"

  "Oh, yes, quite. Her notions are so dreadfully proper and old fashioned. She hasn't got any sympathy, has she, Hubert?"

  "I don't know," he said gravely. "I have always had the greatest respect for her."

  "Respect! So you ought. That's just the thing one has for a slow dear old fogey," she said, laughing, "Oh, Hubert!" There was a silence, and Lord Rotherwood made an observation upon the wind.

  Vera perceived an awkwardness, and, by way of repairing it, afterwards thought it expedient to communicate to Lady Phyllis that it might be a pity she had said "Hubert." It was so awkward, only he was such an old acquaintance.

  "I should have thought the awkwardness was incurred long ago," said Lady Phyllis. "Come, you will have no more concealments from Miss Prescott, will you? You will be ever so much more comfortable, and find out how kind she is."

  "Oh, but!-" Vera wanted to talk over all her grievances for the pleasure of talking, saying very much what she had said before, and Phyllis tried to endure and put in as much sense as she could, without lecturing the girl, who struck her as the very silliest she had ever encountered; but she was continually called off to admire the receding French coast, or to look at the creatures brought up by dredging. She always took care to call Vera, and not let her feel herself left out; but Vera, if in solitude for a moment, reflected on the neglect shown of little people by great ones; and when called up to see uncanny slimy creatures, or even transparent balls like watery umbrellas, only was disgusted and horrified.

  She began to guess, rather truly, that Lady Phyllis wanted to hinder a tête-à-tête between her and Hubert Delrio. In fact, Lord Rotherwood, who was much more of a sympathetic, confidence-inviting personage than his stiffer, much older seeming son, had said to his daughter, "Don't let that poor lad and the girl get together alone, Fly; the boy thinks he is bound to make her an offer."

  "Oh
, father! Surely not!"

  "No more than if they had been two babies in a walnut shell. So I told him, but people don't see what infants they are themselves, and I want to hinder him from putting his foot in it before he has seen her aunt-cousin-sister, or whoever it is that has the charge of her; and she has depicted to him a Gorgon, with Medusa's hair, claws and all -a fancy sketch, isn't it?"

  "Of course, sentimental schoolgirl colours! Mysie thinks her delightful."

  "At any rate, let him get a dose of common sense before committing himself. He is a capital fellow, sure to rise; has the soul and head and hands for it, but he ought not to weight himself with a drag."

  "Do you think he is really in love with her?"

  Lord Rotherwood waved his hands. "He thinks so, but nobody knows with those boys! I had to tell him at last that I would not have any philandering on board my ship; and whatever he might think it his duty to say, must be put off for aunt-sister-Gorgon-Medusa or what not. And I don't think he's very bad, Fly, for he modestly asked permission to sketch Francie's head for St. Mildred, or Milburg, or somebody; and was ready to run crazy about the tints on that dogfish. The young fellow is in the queerest state between the artist and the lover! delight and shame! I should like to take him north with us; the colours of the cliffs in the Isles would soon drive out Miss Victoria- what's her name?"

  "You don't think him like Stephen in the Mill on the Floss, who ought to have married Maggie Tulliver."

  "I believe that is his precedent-but it is sheer stuff-pure accident-as a respectable old householder like me is ready to testify to the Gorgons and Chimeras dire-Grundys and all. We must encounter Rock Quay, Fly, if it is only to rescue this unlucky youth."

  "What is he doing now? Oh, I see; drawing Francie, who sits as stiff as a Saint of Burne-Jones! Well, I'll have an eye to them! Vera! Have you finished Rudder Grange?"

  "Not quite. I can't make out who Lord Edward was."