’Why, you dear sentimental boy!  You don’t suppose we could see each other every day for ever?’

It was perhaps the cruelest question that could have been addressed to the sentimental boy from her mouth.  But he was a cheerful martyr!

‘You dear Don Doloroso!’ she resumed.  ’I declare if you are not just like those young Portugals this morning; and over there you were such a dear English fellow; and that’s why I liked you so much!  Do change!  Do, please, be lively, and yourself again.  Or mind; I’ll call you Don Doloroso, and that shall be your name in England.  See there!—­that’s—­that’s? what’s the name of that place?  Hoy!  Mr. Skerne!’ She hailed the boatswain, passing, ‘Do tell me the name of that place.’

Mr. Skerne righted about to satisfy her minutely, and then coming up to Evan, he touched his hat, and said: 

’I mayn’t have another opportunity—­we shall be busy up there—­of thankin’ you again, sir, for what you did for my poor drunken brother Bill, and you may take my word I won’t forget it, sir, if he does; and I suppose he’ll be drowning his memory just as he was near drowning himself.’

Evan muttered something, grimaced civilly, and turned away.  The girl’s observant brows were moved to a faintly critical frown, and nodding intelligently to the boatswain’s remark, that the young gentleman did not seem quite himself, now that he was nearing home, she went up to Evan, and said: 

’I’m going to give you a lesson in manners, to be quits with you.  Listen, sir.  Why did you turn away so ungraciously from Mr. Skerne, while he was thanking you for having saved his brother’s life?  Now there’s where you’re too English.  Can’t you bear to be thanked?’

‘I don’t want to be thanked because I can swim,’ said Evan.

‘But it is not that.  Oh, how you trifle!’ she cried.  ’There’s nothing vexes me so much as that way you have.  Wouldn’t my eyes have sparkled if anybody had come up to me to thank me for such a thing?  I would let them know how glad I was to have done such a thing!  Doesn’t it make them happier, dear Evan?’

‘My dear Miss Jocelyn!’

‘What?’

The honest grey eyes fixed on him, narrowed their enlarged lids.  She gazed before her on the deck, saying: 

’I’m sure I can’t understand you.  I suppose it’s because I’m a girl, and I never shall till I’m a woman.  Heigho!’

A youth who is engaged in the occupation of eating his heart, cannot shine to advantage, and is as much a burden to himself as he is an enigma to others.  Evan felt this; but he could do nothing and say nothing; so he retired deeper into the folds of the Don, and remained picturesque and scarcely pleasant.

They were relieved by a summons to breakfast from below.

She brightened and laughed.  ’Now, what will you wager me, Evan, that the Countess doesn’t begin: 

“Sweet child! how does she this morning? blooming?” when she kisses me?’