liant face now and then. It
did not come and go, moreover, for the frank, open beauty was always the
same; it was revealed to him only at intervals. Perhaps he saw it in her
dark, tender eyes--he could not tell. He saw Henry Veath pacing the
deck, smoking and--alone. Hugh's heart swelled gladly and he spoke quite
cheerily to Veath as that gentleman sauntered past.

"Now, that is Mr. Veath, isn't it?" demanded his fair companion.

"Yes; do you think we should be mistaken for each other?"

"Oh, dear, no, now that I know you apart. You are utterly unlike, except
in height. How broad he is! Hasn't he a wonderful back?" she cried,
admiring the tall, straight figure of the walker.

"He got that on the farm."

"It is worth a farm to have shoulders like his, I should say. You must
introduce Mr. Veath to me."

Hugh looked at the moon very thoughtfully for a few moments and then, as
if remembering, said that he would be happy to do so, and was sure that
Veath would be even happier.

At this moment the tall, lank form of Lord Huntingford approached. He
was peering intently at the people in the chairs as he passed them,
plainly searching for some one.

"There is Lord Huntingford looking for you," said Hugh, rising. He saw a
trace of annoyance in her face as she also arose. "I overheard him
telling the captain that Lady Huntingford--your mother--plays a
miserable game of crib."

She started and turned sharply upon him.

"My mother, Mr. Ridge?" she said slowly.

"Yes; your father was guying Captain Shadburn about his game, you know."

The look of wonder in her eyes increased; she passed her hand across her
brow and then through her hair in evident perplexity, all the while
staring at his face. There was a tinge of suspicion in her voice when
she spoke.

"Mr. Ridge, don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"You surely know that I am not Lord Huntingford's--"

"You don't mean to say that you are not his daughter," gasped Hugh,
dubious as to her meaning.

"I am Lady Huntingford."

"His wife?"

"His wife."

Hugh, too dumbfounded to speak, could do no more than doff his cap as
she took the arm of the gray lord and softly said to him:

"Good-night, Mr. Ridge."

CHAPTER X

A SHARP ENCOUNTER

The _Tempest Queen_ carried a merry cargo. The young officers, the
Americans and rich pleasure seekers from other lands--young and
old--made up a happy company. Of all on board, but one was despised and
loathed by his fellow