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Billy was standing up now, his perplexed face turned questioningly on his chums. The boys gazed at each other and Maurice's chuckle echoed Billy's, although it was raspy and hoarse. "She shall look as smart as she can be made[Pg 95] to look, sir," answered Mr Lawrence. "Permit me to conduct you on board, madam.".

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Mr Eagle looked as obedient as a quartermaster to instructions sternly delivered by a flogging captain. Mr Lawrence approached the figure of the young lady sobbing against the bulkhead, and placed his hand lightly upon her shoulder. She shook him off with a passionate convulsion of her whole form, which was full of disgust, aversion, and contemptuous wrath. It was a masterpiece of movement, eloquent in the highest possible degree of what she chose him to believe was in her mind. Her mother, Mrs Kitty O'Hara, had been famous for her artful strokes in this way. No actress surpassed her, and few were the equals of Mrs O'Hara in the remarkable gift of personification of passion by action. Captain Acton walked into his house and sought his sister, whom he found alone in the dining-room. She was seated on a high-backed chair knitting. Her own and Lucy's dog lay at her feet. She started at the entrance of Captain Acton, dropped her knitting in her lap, and half rose at her brother, clutching the arms of the chair. "Oh, madam, my dearest madam," exclaimed the Admiral in a voice broken with feeling, "how am I to thank you? What words do your angelic goodness leave me for the conveyance of my gratitude?".