Elfride slept soundly that night. Her first thought the next
morning was the thrilling one that Knight was as close at hand as
when they were at home at Endelstow, and her first sight, on
looking out of the cabin window, was the perpendicular face of
Beachy Head, gleaming white in a brilliant six-o'clock-in-the-
morning sun. This fair daybreak, however, soon changed its
aspect. A cold wind and a pale mist descended upon the sea, and
seemed to threaten a dreary day.
When they were nearing Southampton, Mrs. Swancourt came to say
that her husband was so ill that he wished to be put on shore
here, and left to do the remainder of the journey by land. 'He
will be perfectly well directly he treads firm ground again.
Which shall we do--go with him, or finish our voyage as we
intended?'
Elfride was comfortably housed under an umbrella which Knight was
holding over her to keep off the wind. 'Oh, don't let us go on
shore!' she said with dismay. 'It would be such a pity!'
'That's very fine,' said Mrs. Swancourt archly, as to a child.
'See, the wind has increased her colour, the sea her appetite and
spirits, and somebody her happiness. Yes, it would be a pity,
certainly.'
''Tis my misfortune to be always spoken to from a pedestal,'
sighed Elfride.
'Well, we will do as you like, Mrs. Swancourt,' said Knight, 'but----'
'I myself would rather remain on board,' interrupted the elder
lady.
Pages:
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393