He hurried to the door without waiting for an answer, and went out into the garden to receive his guest.

Noel Vanstone made his appearance at the gate, solemnly carrying his bridal offering to North Shingles with both hands.  The object in question was an ancient casket (one of his father’s bargains); inside the casket reposed an old-fashioned carbuncle brooch, set in silver (another of his father’s bargains)—­bridal presents both, possessing the inestimable merit of leaving his money undisturbed in his pocket.  He shook his head portentously when the captain inquired after his health and spirits.  He had passed a wakeful night; ungovernable apprehensions of Lecount’s sudden re-appearance had beset him as soon as he found himself alone at Sea View.  Sea View was redolent of Lecount:  Sea View (though built on piles, and the strongest house in England) was henceforth odious to him.  He had felt this all night; he had also felt his responsibilities.  There was the lady’s maid, to begin with.  Now he had hired her, he began to think she wouldn’t do.  She might fall sick on his hands; she might have deceived him by a false character; she and the landlady of the hotel might have been in league together.  Horrible!  Really horrible to think of.  Then there was the other responsibility—­perhaps the heavier of the two—­the responsibility of deciding where he was to go and spend his honeymoon to-morrow.  He would have preferred one of his father’s empty houses:  But except at Vauxhall Walk (which he supposed would be objected to), and at Aldborough (which was of course out of the question) all the houses were let.  He would put himself in Mr. Bygrave’s hands.  Where had Mr. Bygrave spent his own honeymoon?  Given the British Islands to choose from, where would Mr. Bygrave pitch his tent, on a careful review of all the circumstances?

At this point the bridegroom’s questions suddenly came to an end, and the bridegroom’s face exhibited an expression of ungovernable astonishment.  His judicious friend, whose advice had been at his disposal in every other emergency, suddenly turned round on him, in the emergency of the honeymoon, and flatly declined discussing the subject.

“No!” said the captain, as Noel Vanstone opened his lips to plead for a hearing, “you must really excuse me.  My point of view in this matter is, as usual, a peculiar one.  For some time past I have been living in an atmosphere of deception, to suit your convenience.  That atmosphere, my good sir, is getting close; my Moral Being requires ventilation.  Settle the choice of a locality with my niece, and leave me, at my particular request, in total ignorance of the subject.  Mrs. Lecount is certain to come here on her return from Zurich, and is certain to ask me where you are gone.  You may think it strange, Mr. Vanstone; but when I tell her I don’t know, I wish to enjoy the unaccustomed luxury of feeling, for once in a way, that I am speaking the truth!”