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Captain Acton was silent. He was astonished. He had never observed his daughter as Aunt Caroline did. He was wanting in feminine sagacity where the heart is concerned. He[Pg 385] saw that if his daughter was not in love with Mr Lawrence, she was dangerously near that passion; she seemed to him to have been transformed into a sweetheart by usage which would have made the heart of most young women fierce with hate and horror. She was under a spell which she thought to break by the practice of an inherited art, as miraculous in effect as it had been unsuspected in being, and she had left her kidnapper seemingly as enamoured of him as though his behaviour from the beginning had been strictly honourable and chivalrous, an additament to the passion which his gallant record, his lofty bearing, and his handsome looks had inspired in her. He had been so transported by his scheme for winning the beautiful young girl whom he worshipped that his survey of the vast canvas of his intentions was in reality restricted to but one corner of it, so that he saw only a little of the whole truth. First, and certainly foremost, he had counted upon her love for[Pg 290] him, which, however carefully the secret might have been kept by her, was witnessed by him every time they had met, and flourished as a conviction in him. He had looked for her forgiveness for the rashness, and, it may be added, the cruelty of his conspiracy of love, and he never could have believed that in the sweet image of the girl dwelt such a character as she had exhibited since, after inveigling her on board into his cabin, he confessed that the story which had brought her to him was a lie, and with a face filled with the light of worship for her avowed his intentions. It was almost dark when he reached the little log sugar-shanty which housed his pets. He had hidden a lantern in a hollow log against such night visits as this and he paused to draw it out and light it before proceeding to the menagerie. As he rounded the shanty, whistling softly, and anticipating how glad Spotba, Moper, the owl, and all the other wild inmates would be to see him, he paused suddenly, and the whistle died on his lips. Somebody had been snooping about his menagerie! The prop had been taken from the door..
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"You know her well enough, for example," said Mr Lawrence, critically surveying him as though he took counsel within himself whilst he talked, "that if I gave you a letter for her and for none other"—he frowned, and with some passion emphasised none other—"you are not likely to mistake, you are not likely to give it to another." "By love," said Lucy, hanging her head, whilst the blush that came into her cheeks was like the revelation of the glory of the red rose to the first delicate light of sunrise. Then with a sudden impulse of confidence she added fluently: "He was wasting his time at Old Harbour Town. He fell into vicious habits and modes of getting money which he detested, but the opportunities offered, and strong as he is as a sailor, he proved himself weak as a man." "And that's where Harry found the stolen stuff," mused Wilson. "What else, Billy?" "He thinks you're guyin' him," said the other man. "How's he to know what you mean by 'fishin'-outfit?' He likely thinks you mean a rod and reel. Better push along and mind your own business. Next thing you're goin' to say is somethin' about 'shootin' a well,' and if Jacobs gets to hear of that kinder talk—".
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