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After breakfast the Captain went to his library to transact certain business with a lawyer and one or two others, Miss Acton to the housekeeper's room, there to receive certain poor people, and Sir William Lawrence, filling his pipe, waited in the grounds until Captain Acton should appear, and diverted himself as best he could with conversation with the gardeners and in admiring the springing flowers. "I know nobody who turns his compliments so prettily as you, Sir William," exclaimed Lucy. "Do you know, sir," said she, addressing her father, "that Bates (the butler) just now told me there was a fire at sea last night." "Don't enter the cabin for half an hour. Then go in and clear up. And if she speaks, make no answer, and take no notice of her, but clean up the mess.".
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"And there's the Bellisle," said Captain Acton. "I was in her"—and he named the period to his daughter, whom he addressed, but who seemed to have no eyes for any ship but the Victory. Other ships, the two retired naval officers knew, were the Superb, Spencer, Swiftsure, and Leviathan. "Good night," he echoed. 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. It was idle, however, to call it a pursuit. It was a procession with the leader walking fast ahead and the follower lagging. On board the Aurora they saw the brig's round bows bursting the surge into sheets of brilliant whiteness which raced under her row of iron teeth like the foaming cascade of a weir; whilst alongside the keen fore-foot and the clean copper and beautifully moulded run of the Aurora the[Pg 344] brine swept past with no more noise than a shower of rain upon the sea, in a narrow band on either hand which, uniting at the rudder, rushed off in a ribbon of wake that shone like pearl..
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