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The footman ran out. Miss Acton looked with eager, tearful expectation at her brother, who addressing the Admiral, exclaimed: "Did Mr Lawrence state the reason of this change?" enquired Captain Acton. It was April, and some birds were in song; the sun shone brightly, and the breeze blowing from the sea sang pleasantly amongst the trees whose boughs were studded with little buds. The lane conducted Lucy to the valley where the river was, and here she stepped upon an old bridge. When half-way across she stopped to look in the direction of Old Harbour. The river flowed prettily under this bridge and melted its brilliance in the waters of the Harbour, where, when the tide was at lowest[Pg 26] ebb, it always had a bed for its discharge into the brine beyond..
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He made a step to the ship's side, and the mate without answer slunk away to leeward. She spoke like a young wild-eyed prophetess; her tones had a vigorous, dramatic clearness which made her voice new to her father's ears. Her language, which seemed exalted beyond her age, beyond anything one would look for in the lips of so calm, modest, and undemonstrative a girl, she appeared to make peculiarly appropriate to her years and sex, by her delivery, her melodies of accentuation, the easy grasp with which, it was clear, she held a subject that was deep in human nature. On this Captain Acton and his friend went on deck. The schooner was travelling three or four knots one way, and the stranger was heading directly for her at some small pace, so that the speed of the two vessels being combined, the sail might be expected to show a clear hull; which she did, and with the aid of their telescopes, Captain Acton and Sir William confirmed the conjecture of Captain Weaver. She was either a little brig or a brigantine—her after-sails were concealed; her burden was very small. The dusty and rusty complexion of her canvas neutralised the brilliance which most ships' sails shine with when the silver glory of the morning sun pours strong upon them. By half-past nine, three bells by the schooner's clock, the stranger was on the larboard-bow with her main topsail to the mast, and so close that it seemed almost possible to distinguish the faces of her people. "I cannot see that, sir," answered the Admiral. "What can my son do? She will not have him, and he must therefore leave her at Rio, because I have never imagined that he will be able to sell the barque and her cargo without exciting enquiries which he dare not challenge. If therefore he puts into Rio, it will be with the hope of inducing Miss Lucy to marry him there and promptly—an issue which he will have satisfied himself upon before his arrival. And if, as 'tis certain,[Pg 348] she will have nothing to do with him, he will leave her at Rio and make haste to sail to where he can dispose of your property without risk. But," he continued cheerily, observing that his companion held his peace, manifestly unconvinced by the Admiral's arguments, "we have no right to assume that the weather is always to consist of baffling breezes or light airs like this; and, sir, consider that what is bad for the schooner may—indeed should—be bad for the barque. There is but one course for Rio from the port we hail from. I have watched Weaver's navigation with anxiety, and have full confidence in his judgment. I have again and again considered his chart and prickings, and in all that he said and says I have agreed, and still agree.".
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