CHAPTER IV

In ten minutes they were steaming out of the harbour for their voyage of four or five hours, at whose ending she would have to tell her strange story.

As Pen-zephyr and all its environing scenes disappeared behind Mousehole and St. Clement’s Isle, Baptista’s ephemeral, meteor-like husband impressed her yet more as a fantasy.  She was still in such a trance-like state that she had been an hour on the little packet-boat before she became aware of the agitating fact that Mr. Heddegan was on board with her.  Involuntarily she slipped from her left hand the symbol of her wifehood.

’Hee-hee!  Well, the truth is, I wouldn’t interrupt ’ee.  “I reckon she don’t see me, or won’t see me,” I said, “and what’s the hurry?  She’ll see enough o’ me soon!” I hope ye be well, mee deer?’

He was a hale, well-conditioned man of about five and fifty, of the complexion common to those whose lives are passed on the bluffs and beaches of an ocean isle.  He extended the four quarters of his face in a genial smile, and his hand for a grasp of the same magnitude.  She gave her own in surprised docility, and he continued:  ’I couldn’t help coming across to meet ’ee.  What an unfortunate thing you missing the boat and not coming Saturday!  They meant to have warned ’ee that the time was changed, but forgot it at the last moment.  The truth is that I should have informed ’ee myself; but I was that busy finishing up a job last week, so as to have this week free, that I trusted to your father for attending to these little things.  However, so plain and quiet as it is all to be, it really do not matter so much as it might otherwise have done, and I hope ye haven’t been greatly put out.  Now, if you’d sooner that I should not be seen talking to ’ee—­if ’ee feel shy at all before strangers—­just say.  I’ll leave ‘ee to yourself till we get home.’

‘Thank you much.  I am indeed a little tired, Mr. Heddegan.’

He nodded urbane acquiescence, strolled away immediately, and minutely inspected the surface of the funnel, till some female passengers of Giant’s Town tittered at what they must have thought a rebuff—­for the approaching wedding was known to many on St. Maria’s Island, though to nobody elsewhere.  Baptista coloured at their satire, and called him back, and forced herself to commune with him in at least a mechanically friendly manner.

The opening event had been thus different from her expectation, and she had adumbrated no act to meet it.  Taken aback she passively allowed circumstances to pilot her along; and so the voyage was made.

It was near dusk when they touched the pier of Giant’s Town, where several friends and neighbours stood awaiting them.  Her father had a lantern in his hand.  Her mother, too, was there, reproachfully glad that the delay had at last ended so simply.  Mrs. Trewthen and her daughter went together along the Giant’s Walk, or promenade, to the house, rather in advance of her husband and Mr. Heddegan, who talked in loud tones which reached the women over their shoulders.