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After sitting by the window for nearly an hour, her eyes looking
mechanically at the view, her mind empty of all impressions, and
conscious of no thoughts, she shook off the strange waking stupor that
possessed her, and rose to prepare herself for the serious business of
the day.

She went to the wardrobe and took down from the pegs two bright,
delicate muslin dresses, which had been made for summer wear at
Combe-Raven a year since, and which had been of too little value to be
worth selling when she parted with her other possessions. After placing
these dresses side by side on the bed, she looked into the wardrobe once
more. It only contained one other summer dress--the plain alpaca gown
which she had worn during her memorable interview with Noel Vanstone and
Mrs. Lecount. This she left in its place, resolving not to wear it--less
from any dread that the housekeeper might recognize a pattern too quiet
to be noticed, and too common to be remembered, than from the conviction
that it was neither gay enough nor becoming enough for her purpose.
After taking a plain white muslin scarf, a pair of light gray kid
gloves, and a garden-hat of Tuscan straw, from the drawers of the
wardrobe, she locked it, and put the key carefully in her pocket.

Instead of at once proceeding to dress herself, she sat idly looking at
the two muslin gowns; careless which she wore, and yet inconsistently
hesitating which to choose. "What does it matter!" she said to herself,
with a reckless laugh; "I am equally worthless in my own estimation,
whichever I put on." She shuddered, as if the sound of her own laughter
had startled her, and abruptly caught up the dress which lay nearest to
her hand. Its colors were blue and white--the shade of blue which best
suited her fair complexion. She hurriedly put on the gown, without going
near her looking-glass. For the first time in her life she shrank
from meeting the reflection of herself--except for a moment, when
she arranged her hair under her garden-hat, leaving the glass again
immediately. She drew her scarf over her shoulders and fitted on her
gloves, with her back to the toilet-table. "Shall I paint?" she asked
herself, feeling instinctively that she was turning pale. "The rouge
is still left in my box. It can't make my face more false than it is
already." She looked round toward the glass, and again turned away from
it. "No!" she said. "I have Mrs. Lecount to face as well as her master.
No paint." After consulting her watch, she left the room and went
downstairs again. It wanted ten minutes only of two o'clock.

Captain Wragge was waiting for her in the parlor--respectable, in a
frock-coat, a stiff summer cravat, and a high white hat; specklessly
and cheerfully rural, in a buff waistcoat, gray trousers, and gaiters
to match. His collars were higher than ever, and he carried a brand-new
camp-stool in his hand. Any tradesman in England who had seen him at
that moment would have trusted him on the spot.

"Charming!" said the captain, paternally surveying Magdalen when she
entered the room. "So fresh and cool! A little too pale, my dear, and a
great deal too serious. Otherwise perfect. Try if you can smile."

"When the time comes for smiling," said Magdalen, bitterly, "trust my
dramatic training for any change of face that may be necessary. Where is
Mrs. Wragge?"

"Mrs. Wragge has learned her lesson," replied the captain, "and is
rewarded by my permission to sit at work in her own room. I sanction
her new fancy for dressmaking, because it is sure to absorb all her
attention, and to keep her at home. There is no fear of her finishing
the Oriental Robe in a hurry, for there is no mistake in the process of
making it which she is not certain to commit. She will sit incubating
her gown--pardon the expression--like a hen over an addled egg. I assure
you, her new whim relieves me. Nothing could be more convenient, under
existing circumstances."

He strutted away to the window, looked out, and beckoned to Magdalen to
join him. "There they are!" he said, and pointed to the Parade.

Noel Vanstone slowly walked by, as she looked, dressed in a complete
suit of old-fashioned nankeen. It was apparently one of the days when
the state of his health was at the worst. He leaned on Mrs. Lecount's
arm, and was protected from the sun by a light umbrella which she held
over him. The housekeeper--dressed to perfection, as usual, in a quiet,
lavender-colored summer gown, a black mantilla, an unassuming straw
bonnet, and a crisp blue veil--escorted her invalid master with the
tenderest attention; sometimes directing his notice respectfully to the
various objects of the sea view; sometimes bending her head in graceful
acknowledgment of the courtesy of passing strangers on the Parade, who
stepped aside to let the invalid pass by. She produced a visible effect
among the idlers on the beach. They looked after her with unanimous
interest, and exchanged confidential nods of approval which said, as
plainly as words could have expressed it, "A very domestic person! a
truly superior woman!"

Captain Wragge's party-colored eyes followed Mrs. Lecount with a steady,
distrustful attention. "Tough work for us _there_," he whispered in
Magdalen's ear; "tougher work than you think, before we turn that woman
out of her place."

"Wait," said Magdalen, quietly. "Wait and see."

She walked to the door. The captain followed her without making
any further remark. "I'll wait till you're married," he thought to
himself--"not a moment longer, offer me what you may."

At the h ouse door Magdalen addressed him again.

"We will go that way," she said, pointing southward, "then turn, and
meet them as they come back."

Captain Wragge signified his approval of the arrangement, and followed
Magdalen to the garden gate. As she opened it to pass through, her
attention was attracted by a lady, with a nursery-maid and two little
boys behind her, loitering on the path outside the garden wall. The lady
started, looked eagerly, and smiled to herself as Magdalen came out.
Curiosity had got the better of Kirke's sister, and she had come to
Aldborough for the express purpose of seeing Miss Bygrave.

Something in the shape of the lady's face, something in the expression
of her dark eyes, reminded Magdalen of the merchant-captain whose
uncontrolled admiration had annoyed her on the previous evening. She
instantly returned the stranger's scrutiny by a frowning, ungracious
look. The lady colored, paid the look back with interest, and slowly
walked on.

"A hard, bold, bad girl," thought Kirke's sister. "What could Robert be
thinking of to admire her? I am almost glad he is gone. I hope and trust
he will never set eyes on Miss Bygrave again."

"What boors the people are here!" said Magdalen to Captain Wragge. "That
woman was even ruder than the man last night. She is like him in the
face. I wonder who she is?"

"I'll find out directly," said the captain. "We can't be too cautious
about strangers." He at once appealed to his friends, the boatmen.
They were close at hand, and Magdalen heard the questions and answers
plainly.

"How are you all this morning?" said Captain Wragge, in his easy jocular
way. "And how's the wind? Nor'-west and by west, is it? Very good. Who
is that lady?"

"That's Mrs. Strickland, sir."

"Ay! ay! The clergyman's wife and the captain's sister. Where's the
captain to-day?"

"On his way to London, I should think, sir. His ship sails for China at
the end of the week."

China! As that one word passed the man's lips, a pang of the old sorrow
struck Magdalen to the heart. Stranger as he was, she began to hate the
bare mention of the merchant-captain's name. He had troubled her dreams
of the past night; and now, when she was most desperately and recklessly
bent on forgetting her old home-existence, he had been indirectly the
cause of recalling her mind to Frank.

"Come!" she said, angrily, to her companion. "What do we care about the
man or his ship? Come away."

"By all means," said Captain Wragge. "As long as we don't find friends
of the Bygraves, what do we care about anybody?"

They walked on southward for ten minutes or more, then turned and walked
back again to meet Noel Vanstone and Mrs. Lecount.



CHAPTER IV.

CAPTAIN WRAGGE and Magdalen retraced their steps until they were again
within view of North Shingles Villa before any signs appeared of Mrs.
Lecount and her master. At that point the housekeeper's lavender-colored
dress, the umbrella, and the feeble little figure in nankeen walking
under it, became visible in the distance. The captain slackened his pace
immediately, and issued his directions to Magdalen for her conduct at
the coming interview in these words:

"Don't forget your smile," he said. "In all other respects you will do.
The walk has improved your complexion, and the hat becomes you. Look
Mrs. Lecount steadily in the face; show no embarrassment when you speak;
and if Mr. Noel Vanstone pays you pointed attention, don't take too much
notice of him while his housekeeper's eye is on you. Mind one thing!
I have been at Joyce's Scientific Dialogues all the morning; and I am
quite serious in meaning to give Mrs. Lecount the full benefit of my
studies. If I can't contrive to divert her attention from you and her
master, I won't give sixpence for our chance of success. Small-talk
won't succeed with that woman; compliments won't succeed; jokes won't
succeed--ready-made science may recall the deceased professor, and
ready-made science may do. We must establish a code of signals to let
you know what I am about. Observe this camp-stool. When I shift it from
my left hand to my right, I am talking Joyce. When I shift it from my
right hand to my left, I am talking Wragge. In the first case, don't
interrupt me--I am leading up to my point. In the second case, say
anything you like; my remarks are not of the slightest consequence.
Would you like a rehearsal? Are you sure you understand? Very good--take
my arm, and look happy. Steady! here they are."

The meeting took place nearly midway between Sea-view Cottage and North
Shingles. Captain Wragge took off his tall white hat and opened the
interview immediately on the friendliest terms.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Lecount," he said, with the frank and cheerful
politeness of a naturally sociable man. "Good-morning, Mr. Vanstone;
I am sorry to see you suffering to-day. Mrs. Lecount, permit me to
introduce my niece--my niece, Miss Bygrave. My dear girl, this is Mr.
Noel Vanstone, our neighbor at Sea-view Cottage. We must positively
be sociable at Aldborough, Mrs. Lecount. There is only one walk in the
place (as my niece remarked to me just now, Mr. Vanstone); and on that
walk we must all meet every time we go out. And why not? Are we formal
people on either side? Nothing of the sort; we are just the reverse. You
possess the Continental facility of manner, Mr. Vanstone--I match you
with the blunt cordiality of an old-fashioned Englishman--the ladies
mingle together in harmonious variety, like flowers on the same bed--and
the result is a mutual interest in making our sojourn at the sea-side
agreeable to each other. Pardon my flow of spirits; pardon my feeling
so cheerful and so young. The Iodine in the sea-air, Mrs. Lecount--the
notorious effect of the Iodine in the sea-air!"

"You arrived yesterday, Miss Bygrave, did you not?" said the
housekeeper, as soon as the captain's deluge of language had come to an
end.

She addressed those words to Magdalen with a gentle motherly interest
in her youth and beauty, chastened by the deferential amiability which
became her situation in Noel Vanstone's household. Not the faintest
token of suspicion or surprise betrayed itself in her face, her voice,
or her manner, while she and Magdalen now looked at each other. It was
plain at the outset that the true face and figure which she now saw
recalled nothing to her mind of the false face and figure which she had
seen in Vauxhall Walk. The disguise had evidently been complete enough
even to baffle the penetration of Mrs. Lecount.

"My aunt and I came here yesterday evening," said Magdalen. "We found
the latter part of the journey very fatiguing. I dare say you found it
so, too?"

She designedly made her answer longer than was necessary for the purpose
of discovering, at the earliest opportunity, the effect which the sound
of her voice produced on Mrs. Lecount.

The housekeeper's thin lips maintained their motherly smile; the
housekeeper's amiable manner lost none of its modest deference, but the
expression of her eyes suddenly changed from a look of attention to a
look of inquiry. Magdalen quietly said a few words more, and then waited
again for results. The change spread gradually all over Mrs. Lecount's
face, the motherly smile died away, and the amiable manner betrayed
a slight touch of restraint. Still no signs of positive recognition
appeared; the housekeeper's expression remained what it had been from
the first--an expression of inquiry, and nothing more.

"You complained of fatigue, sir, a few minutes since," she said,
dropping all further conversation with Magdalen and addressing her
master. "Will you go indoors and rest?"

The proprietor of Sea-view Cottage had hitherto confined himself to
bowing, simpering and admiring Magdalen through his half-closed eyelids.
There was no mistaking the sudden flutter and agitation in his manner,
and the heightened color in his wizen little face. Even the reptile
temperament of Noel Vanstone warmed under the influence of the sex: he
had an undeniably appreciative eye for a handsome woman, and Magdalen's
grace and beauty were not thrown away on him.

"Will you go indoors, sir, and rest?" asked the housekeeper, repeating
her quest ion.

"Not yet, Lecount," said her master. "I fancy I feel stronger; I fancy
I can go on a little." He turned simpering to Magdalen, and added, in a
lower tone: "I have found a new interest in my walk, Miss Bygrave. Don't
desert us, or you will take the interest away with you."

He smiled and smirked in the highest approval of the ingenuity of his
own compliment--from which Captain Wragge dexterously diverted the
housekeeper's attention by ranging himself on her side of the path and
speaking to her at the same moment. They all four walked on slowly. Mrs.
Lecount said nothing more. She kept fast hold of her master's arm, and
looked across him at Magdalen with the dangerous expression of inquiry
more marked than ever in her handsome black eyes. That look was not lost
on the wary Wragge. He shifted his indicative camp-stool from the left
hand to the right, and opened his scientific batteries on the spot.

"A busy scene, Mrs. Lecount," said the captain, politely waving his
camp-stool over the sea and the passing ships. "The greatness of
England, ma'am--the true greatness of England. Pray observe how heavily
some of those vessels are laden! I am often inclined to wonder whether
the British sailor is at all aware, when he has got his cargo on board,
of the Hydrostatic importance of the operation that he has performed.
If I were suddenly transported to the deck of one of those ships (which
Heaven forbid, for I suffer at sea); and if I said to a member of the
crew: 'Jack! you have done wonders; you have grasped the Theory of
Floating Vessels'--how the gallant fellow would stare! And yet on that
theory Jack's life depends. If he loads his vessel one-thirtieth part
more than he ought, what happens? He sails past Aldborough, I grant you,
in safety. He enters the Thames, I grant you again, in safety. He gets
on into the fresh water as far, let us say, as Greenwich; and--down he
goes! Down, ma'am, to the bottom of the river, as a matter of scientific
certainty!"

Here he paused, and left Mrs. Lecount no polite alternative but to
request an explanation.

"With infinite pleasure, ma'am," said the captain, drowning in the
deepest notes of his voice the feeble treble in which Noel Vanstone paid
his compliments to Magdalen. "We will start, if you please, with a first
principle. All bodies whatever that float on the surface of the water
displace as much fluid as is equal in weight to the weight of the
bodies. Good. We have got our first principle. What do we deduce from
it? Manifestly this: That, in order to keep a vessel above water, it is
necessary to take care that the vessel and its cargo shall be of less
weight than the weight of a quantity of water--pray follow me here!--of
a quantity of water equal in bulk to that part of the vessel which
it will be safe to immerse in the water. Now, ma'am, salt-water is
specifically thirty times heavier than fresh or river water, and a
vessel in the German Ocean will not sink so deep as a vessel in the
Thames. Consequently, when we load our ship with a view to the London
market, we have (Hydrostatically speaking) three alternatives. Either we
load with one-thirtieth part less than we can carry at sea; or we take
one-thirtieth part out at the mouth of the river; or we do neither
the one nor the other, and, as I have already had the honor of
remarking--down we go! Such," said the captain, shifting the camp-stool
back again from his right hand to his left, in token that Joyce was done
with for the time being; "such, my dear madam, is the Theory of Floating
Vessels. Permit me to add, in conclusion, you are heartily welcome to
it."

"Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Lecount. "You have unintentionally saddened
me; but the information I have received is not the less precious on that
account. It is long, long ago, Mr. Bygrave, since I have heard myself
addressed in the language of science. My dear husband made me his
companion--my dear husband improved my mind as you have been trying to
improve it. Nobody has taken pains with my intellect since. Many thanks,
sir. Your kind consideration for me is not thrown away."

She sighed with a plaintive humility, and privately opened her ears to
the conversation on the other side of her.

A minute earlier she would have heard her master expressing himself in
the most flattering terms on the subject of Miss Bygrave's appearance in
her sea-side costume. But Magdalen had seen Captain Wragge's signal with
the camp-stool, and had at once diverted Noel Vanstone to the topic of
himself and his possessions by a neatly-timed question about his house
at Aldborough.

"I don't wish to alarm you, Miss Bygrave," were the first words of Noel
Vanstone's which caught Mrs. Lecount's attention, "but there is only one
safe house in Aldborough, and that house is mine. The sea may destroy
all the other houses--it can't destroy Mine. My father took care of
that; my father was a remarkable man. He had My house built on piles. I
have reason to believe they are the strongest piles in England. Nothing
can possibly knock them down--I don't care what the sea does--nothing
can possibly knock them down."

"Then, if the sea invades us," said Magdalen, "we must all run for
refuge to you."

Noel Vanstone saw his way to another compliment; and, at the same
moment, the wary captain saw his way to another burst of science.

"I could almost wish the invasion might happen," murmured one of the
gentlemen, "to give me the happiness of offering the refuge."

"I could almost swear the wind had shifted again!" exclaimed the other.
"Where is a man I can ask? Oh, there he is. Boatman! How's the wind now?
Nor'west and by west still--hey? And southeast and by south yesterday
evening--ha? Is there anything more remarkable, Mrs. Lecount, than
the variableness of the wind in this climate?" proceeded the captain,
shifting the camp-stool to the scientific side of him. "Is there any
natural phenomenon more bewildering to the scientific inquirer? You
will tell me that the electric fluid which abounds in the air is
the principal cause of this variableness. You will remind me of the
experiment of that illustrious philosopher who measured the velocity of
a great storm by a flight of small feathers. My dear madam, I grant all
your propositions--"

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Mrs. Lecount; "you kindly attribute to
me a knowledge that I don't possess. Propositions, I regret to say, are
quite beyond me."

"Don't misunderstand me, ma'am," continued the captain, politely
unconscious of the interruption. "My remarks apply to the temperate zone
only. Place me on the coasts beyond the tropics--place me where the wind
blows toward the shore in the day-time, and toward the sea by night--and
I instantly advance toward conclusive experiments. For example, I know
that the heat of the sun during the day rarefies the air over the land,
and so causes the wind. You challenge me to prove it. I escort you down
the kitchen stairs (with your kind permission); take my largest pie-dish
out of the cook's hands; I fill it with cold water. Good! that dish of
cold water represents the ocean. I next provide myself with one of our
most precious domestic conveniences, a hot-water plate; I fill it with
hot water and I put it in the middle of the pie-dish. Good again! the
hot-water plate represents the land rarefying the air over it. Bear that
in mind, and give me a lighted candle. I hold my lighted candle over the
cold water, and blow it out. The smoke immediately moves from the dish
to the plate. Before you have time to express your satisfaction, I
light the candle once more, and reverse the whole proceeding. I fill the
pie-dish with hot-water, and the plate with cold; I blow the candle out
again, and the smoke moves this time from the plate to the dish. The
smell is disagreeable--but the experiment is conclusive."

He shifted the camp-stool back again, and looked at Mrs. Lecount with
his ingratiating smile. "You don't find me long-winded, ma'am--do
you?" he said, in his easy, cheerful way, just as the housekeeper was
privately opening her e ars once more to the conversation on the other
side of her.

"I am amazed, sir, by the range of y our information," replied Mrs.
Lecount, observing the captain with some perplexity--but thus far with
no distrust. She thought him eccentric, even for an Englishman, and
possibly a little vain of his knowledge. But he had at least paid her
the implied compliment of addressing that knowledge to herself; and she
felt it the more sensibly, from having hitherto found her scientific
sympathies with her deceased husband treated with no great respect
by the people with whom she came in contact. "Have you extended your
inquiries, sir," she proceeded, after a momentary hesitation, "to my
late husband's branch of science? I merely ask, Mr. Bygrave, because
(though I am only a woman) I think I might exchange ideas with you on
the subject of the reptile creation."

Captain Wragge was far too sharp to risk his ready-made science on the
enemy's ground. The old militia-man shook his wary head.

"Too vast a subject, ma'am," he said, "for a smatterer like me. The life
and labors of such a philosopher as your husband, Mrs. Lecount, warn men
of my intellectual caliber not to measure themselves with a giant. May
I inquire," proceeded the captain, softly smoothing the way for future
intercourse with Sea-view Cottage, "whether you possess any scientific
memorials of the late Professor?"

"I possess his Tank, sir," said Mrs. Lecount, modestly casting her eyes
on the ground, "and one of his Subjects--a little foreign Toad."

"His Tank!" exclaimed the captain, in tones of mournful interest; "and
his Toad! Pardon my blunt way of speaking my mind, ma'am. You possess an
object of public interest; and, as one of the public, I acknowledge my
curiosity to see it."

Mrs. Lecount's smooth cheeks colored with pleasure. The one assailable
place in that cold and secret nature was the place occupied by the
memory of the Professor. Her pride in his scientific achievements,
and her mortification at finding them but little known out of his own
country, were genuine feelings. Never had Captain Wragge burned his
adulterated incense on the flimsy altar of human vanity to better
purpose than he was burning it now.

"You are very good, sir," said Mrs. Lecount. "In honoring my husband's
memory, you honor me. But though you kindly treat me on a footing of
equality, I must not forget that I fill a domestic situation. I shall
feel it a privilege to show you my relics, if you will allow me to ask
my master's permission first."

She turned to Noel Vanstone; her perfectly sincere intention of making
the proposed request, mingling--in that strange complexity of motives
which is found so much oftener in a woman's mind than in a man's--with
her jealous distrust of the impression which Magdalen had produced on
her master.

"May I make a request, sir?" asked Mrs. Lecount, after waiting a moment
to catch any fragments of tenderly-personal talk that might reach
her, and after being again neatly baffled by Magdalen--thanks to
the camp-stool. "Mr. Bygrave is one of the few persons in England who
appreciate my husband's scientific labors. He honors me by wishing to
see my little world of reptiles. May I show it to him?"

"By all means, Lecount," said Noel Vanstone, graciously. "You are
an excellent creature, and I like to oblige you. Lecount's Tank, Mr.
Bygrave, is the only Tank in England--Lecount's Toad is the oldest Toad
in the world. Will you come and drink tea at seven o'clock to-night? And
will you prevail on Miss Bygrave to accompany you? I want her to see my
house. I don't think she has any idea what a strong house it is. Come
and survey my premises, Miss Bygrave. You shall have a stick and rap on
the walls; you shall go upstairs and stamp on the floors, and then you
shall hear what it all cost." His eyes wrinkled up cunningly at the
corners, and he slipped another tender speech into Magdalen's ear, under
cover of the all-predominating voice in which Captain Wragge thanked him
for the invitation. "Come punctually at seven," he whispered, "and pray
wear that charming hat!"