Fortune 9

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But Stanhope had sunk on a chair, his face in his hands. Doctor Cavinalt went softly over and stood beside him. "My friend," he said gently, "good news often bowls us over, but perhaps there's even better news in store for you. Fortune is a good thing, but with fortune and your eye-sight restored——",

They resumed their walk. When they had reached the bridge they found old Mr Greyquill, leaning over the rail, and gazing with intentness, with a sort of lifting leer which could not be defined as a smile, though it was like the shadow of one, in the direction of Old Harbour. This person was not used to address either of the gentlemen on meeting them in the public streets. They were accustomed to nod in silence. But this morning [Pg 175]as the Admiral and the Captain passed him, the Admiral so close as to brush his coat-tail, the old scrivener turned with a rapid motion and exclaimed, still preserving his singular leer: "I beg pardon, gentlemen, but as I fail to see the Minorca amongst the ships, may I enquire if she has sailed?",

"All right, Mary," he agreed, his hand on the door-latch.,

She continued to stare at him. Her figure still seemed to shrink as though in her first recoil when he tried to take her hand. Her face then suddenly underwent a change, her mouth relaxed what in homely features might have been called its wild grin; she frowned; her eyes took an unsettled look. There was something in her countenance that could hardly have failed to arrest the attention of any one who had a tolerable acquaintance with the insane. Mr Lawrence seemed to see nothing but Lucy Acton in her beauty.

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"And," said the lawyer as Jacobs paused to wipe his beaded brow, "you thought the will lay in Spencer's safe, and that he was holding it away because of petty malice?",

Billy held out the pan to his chum and waited until Maurice had filled his pockets. Then he asked: "Where's she gone?",

Captain Acton, deeply affected by his friend's distress, concealed his face by turning his head. Mr Fellowes, who had grasped Mr Lawrence's wrist, cried out: "I feel a thread of pulse. He is not dead. I'll away for our medico, and shall be back with him in a jiffey.",

In boyish sympathy his hand reached out to clasp the slender brown one clenched upon the white cloth. He longed to ask her if what the Settlement was saying—that she was going to marry Hinter—was true. And then as quickly as the thought itself came shame of it. His hand clasped her hand more tightly.