On one occasion, when she had let some warmer speech than usual glance off, he chose to take it as a snub, and, pretending to be offended, betook himself to masculine society and smoking.  Bluebell was alone all day, a prey to the ill-natured watchfulness of her two enemies, whose quickened observation and exultant faces proved they had noticed the cessation of his attentions.  Once or twice he passed her without a word or look, regardless of the innocent surprise in her eyes.  “Perhaps he is trying to gain ‘moral influence over me,’ as well as his cousin Kate,” thought she, with a little laugh.  At dinner he dropped into a seat next Mrs. Butler instead of his usual one by herself, and, from the bride’s incessant giggle, was apparently devoting himself to her entertainment.  Bluebell had no one to speak to except the kind old captain, with whom she was rather a favourite, and who chatted away willingly enough, till she ceased to hear that disagreeable and affected laughter.

“Miss Leigh,” said a penitent voice in her ear, “will you come on deck?  There’s a little land bird in the rigging.”

“No, no,” said the captain.  “I won’t have this young lady disturbed; it is very cold on deck, and she is better here.”

“I thought you would like to see it,” said the lieutenant, gloomily.  “It is very tired—­blown off shore, I should think.”

“Indeed, I’d like to give it some crumbs,” said she, hesitatingly.  “Will you take it some, Mr. Dutton?”

“Certainly not,” seeing his advantage, “unless you come too—­in fact, I thought of shooting it.  It would be pretty in your hat—­or Mrs. Butler’s.”

“That would be, indeed, a feather in your cap,” said Mrs. Oliphant with an unpleasant sneer.

“Quite right, my dear,” said the captain, as Mr. Dutton walked away, “not to do everything a young man asks you;” and he assured Bluebell, who was still solicitous about the bird, that it would not venture down for crumbs.

Our heroine was vexed at Mr. Dutton’s disagreeable manner, and began moralizing on the inevitable way in which she succeeded in estranging her female companions, and offending those of the other sex.

The old captain was just going off to his bridge, when by some afterthought, he stepped back, and asked Miss Leigh if she would like to sit awhile in his cabin.  “You’ll find no one there but the cat and the parrot,” he said; and, on her gratefully assenting, led the way to a small oasis of comfort.

The cat, a great brindled Tom, arched his back a yard high, and made a sort of back jump up to his Master’s hand, where he rubbed his head with a sociable miaw.  Bluebell soon had him on her lap in a cozy arm-chair.

“I think Master Dutton will be rather puzzled where to find you,” observed the old skipper, with a twinkle, as he was leaving the cabin.

“Dear me,” said Bluebell, with a conscious blush, “I hope you don’t think—­that there’s anything—­of that sort—­”