On his part, Selkirk finds Catherine also much changed; the rosy complexion, the soft voice, the youthful look, the twenty-two years, all are gone.  Her form has assumed a superabundant amplitude.

They drop each other’s hands and utter a sigh; he, of regret; she, of surprise.

Both close their eyes, at the same time; she, with the fear of gazing too earnestly; he, to recall the being of his imagination.

However this may be, she is not yet a woman to be despised by a sailor.  He therefore prolongs his visit:  they come to interrogations, to confidences.

Catherine acquaints him with the situation of her little business affairs; her fortune is improving; she gives him an estimate of it in round numbers, as well as of the suitors she has rejected; but she does not mention Captain Stradling, whose arrival she yet fears every moment.

Selkirk relates to her his campaigns, his combats against the French, against the Danish, the victorious attack of the English ships against the great boom of Vigo; but, when she asks him what motive has brought him back to St. Andrew, he replies boldly that he came to see her and no one else, and says not a word of Captain Dampier, whom he is even now impatient to meet.

At last the old friends say adieu.

Then the gallant sailor, with an apparent effort, goes away, not forgetting, however, to drink his glass of whiskey.

And this is the reason why, on the third day, Catherine has the vapors; this is the reason why, notwithstanding her soft words of the evening before and her grand morning toilette, she receives so coldly the scarred adversary of the celebrated Jean Bart.

During the whole of the week following, Stradling, Dampier and Selkirk, did not fail to meet at the Royal Salmon.  Selkirk came to see Dampier; Dampier came to see Stradling; Stradling came to see Catherine Felton.

The latter thought the young man already knew the two others, that he had sailed with them, and was not surprised at their intimacy.

Sometimes Selkirk, leaving his companions in the midst of their bottles and glasses, would describe a tangent towards the counter, and come to converse with the pretty hostess.  He no longer felt love for her, and notwithstanding this, perhaps for this very reason, he now talked eloquently.

Kitty blushed, was embarrassed, and poor Captain Stradling, listening with all his ears to the narratives of his illustrious friend William Dampier, or pre-occupied with his pipe, lost in its cloud, saw nothing,—­or seemed to see nothing.

Nevertheless one evening, he went, in his turn, to lean on the counter: 

‘Kate,’ said he, ‘when is our marriage to take place?’

‘Are you thinking of that still?’ replied she, with an air of levity which would once have became her better; ’I hoped this fancy had passed out of your head.’

‘I may then set out on my voyage, Kate?’