ore we knocked up that
minister. And I think that that wait was the only sign Florence ever
showed of having a conscience as far as I was concerned, unless her
lying for some moments in my arms was also a sign of conscience. I fancy
that, if I had shown warmth then, she would have acted the proper wife
to me, or would have put me back again. But, because I acted like a
Philadelphia gentleman, she made me, I suppose, go through with the part
of a male nurse. Perhaps she thought that I should not mind.

After that, as I gather, she had not any more remorse. She was only
anxious to carry out her plans. For, just before she came down the
ladder, she called me to the top of that grotesque implement that I went
up and down like a tranquil jumping-jack. I was perfectly collected. She
said to me with a certain fierceness:

"It is determined that we sail at four this afternoon? You are not lying
about having taken berths?"

I understood that she would naturally be anxious to get away from the
neighbourhood of her apparently insane relatives, so that I readily
excused her for thinking that I should be capable of lying about such
a thing. I made it, therefore, plain to her that it was my fixed
determination to sail by the "Pocahontas". She said then--it was a
moonlit morning, and she was whispering in my ear whilst I stood on
the ladder. The hills that surround Waterbury showed, extraordinarily
tranquil, around the villa. She said, almost coldly:

"I wanted to know, so as to pack my trunks." And she added: "I may be
ill, you know. I guess my heart is a little like Uncle Hurlbird's. It
runs in families."

I whispered that the "Pocahontas" was an extraordinarily steady boat....

Now I wonder what had passed through Florence's mind during the two
hours that she had kept me waiting at the foot of the ladder. I would
give not a little to know. Till then, I fancy she had had no settled
plan in her mind. She certainly never mentioned her heart till that
time. Perhaps the renewed sight of her Uncle Hurlbird had given her the
idea. Certainly her Aunt Emily, who had come over with her to Waterbury,
would have rubbed into her, for hours and hours, the idea that any
accentuated discussions would kill the old gentleman. That would recall
to her mind all the safeguards against excitement with which the poor
silly old gentleman had been hedged in during their trip round the
world. That, perhaps, put it into her head. Still, I believe there