A debate had been held on board the yacht.  Wilfrid and Lady Charlotte gave their votes for the Devon coast.  All were ready to be off, when Miss Ford received a telegram from shore, and said, “No; it must be Dover.”  Now, Mrs. Chump’s villa was on the Devon coast.  Lady Charlotte had talked to Wilfrid about her, and in the simplest language had said that she must be got on board.  This was the reason of their deciding for Devon.  But Georgiana stood for Dover; thither Merthyr said that he must go, whether be sailed or went on land.  By a simultaneous reading of Georgiana’s eyes, both Wilfrid and Lady Charlotte saw what was meant by her decision.  Wilfrid at once affected to give way, half-protestingly.  “And this,” wrote Adela, “taught me that he was well pleased to abandon the West for the East.  Lady C. favoured him with a look such as I could not have believed I should ever behold off the stage.  There was a perfect dagger in her eyes.  She fought against Dover:  do men feel such compliments as these?  They are the only true ones!  She called the captain to witness that the wind was not for Dover she called the mate:  she was really eloquent—­yes, and handsome.  I think Wilfrid thought so; or the reason far the opposition to Dover impressed my brother.  I like him to be made to look foolish, for then he retrieves his character so dashingly—­always.  His face was red, and he seemed undecided—­was—­until one taunt (it must have been a taunt), roused him up.  They exchanged about six sentences—­these two.  I cannot remember them, unhappily; but for neatness and irony, never was anything so delicious heard.  They came sharp as fencing-thrusts; and you could really believe, if you liked, that they were merely stating grounds for diverse opinions.  Of course we sailed East, reaching Dover at ten; and the story is this—­I knew Emilia was in it:—­Tracy Runningbrook had been stationed at Dover ten days by Miss Ford, to intercept Emilia’s father, if he should be found taking her to the Continent by that route.  He waited, and met them at last on the Esplanade.  He telegraphed to Miss Ford and a Signor Marini (we were wrong in not adding illustrious exiles to our list), while he invited them to dine, and detained them till the steamboat was starting; and Signor Marini came down by rail in a great hurry, and would not let Emilia be taken away.  There was a quarrel; but, by some mysterious power that he possesses, this Signor Marini actually prevented the father from taking his child.  Mysterious?  But is anything more mysterious than Emilia’s influence?  I cannot forget what she was ere we trained her; and when I think that we seem to be all—­all who come near her—­connected with her fortunes!  Explain it if you can.  I know it is not her singing; I know it is not her looks.  Captivations she does not deal in.  Is it the magic of indifference?  No; for then some one whom you know and who longs to kiss her bella Bella now would be dangerous!  She is very little so, believe me!