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.