ampton, Mrs. Swancourt came to say that her
husband was so ill that he wished to be put on shore here, and left
to do the remainder of the journey by land. 'He will be perfectly well
directly he treads firm ground again. Which shall we do--go with him, or
finish our voyage as we intended?'

Elfride was comfortably housed under an umbrella which Knight was
holding over her to keep off the wind. 'Oh, don't let us go on shore!'
she said with dismay. 'It would be such a pity!'

'That's very fine,' said Mrs. Swancourt archly, as to a child. 'See,
the wind has increased her colour, the sea her appetite and spirits, and
somebody her happiness. Yes, it would be a pity, certainly.'

''Tis my misfortune to be always spoken to from a pedestal,' sighed
Elfride.

'Well, we will do as you like, Mrs. Swancourt,' said Knight, 'but----'

'I myself would rather remain on board,' interrupted the elder lady.
'And Mr. Swancourt particularly wishes to go by himself. So that shall
settle the matter.'

The vicar, now a drab colour, was put ashore, and became as well as ever
forthwith.

Elfride, sitting alone in a retired part of the vessel, saw a veiled
woman walk aboard among the very latest arrivals at this port. She was
clothed in black silk, and carried a dark shawl upon her arm. The
woman, without looking around her, turned to the quarter allotted to
the second-cabin passengers. All the carnation Mrs. Swancourt had
complimented her step-daughter upon possessing left Elfride's cheeks,
and she trembled visibly.

She ran to the other side of the boat, where Mrs. Swancourt was
standing.

'Let us go home by railway with papa, after all,' she pleaded earnestly.
'I would rather go with him--shall we?'

Mrs. Swancourt looked around for a moment, as if unable to decide. 'Ah,'
she exclaimed, 'it is too late now. Why did not you say so before, when
we had plenty of time?'

The Juliet had at that minute let go, the engines had started, and they
were gliding slowly away from the quay. There was no help for it but
to remain, unless the Juliet could be made to put back, and that would
create a great disturbance. Elfride gave up the idea and submitted
quietly. Her happiness was sadly mutilated now.

The woman whose presence had so disturbed her was exactly like Mrs.
Jethway. She seemed to haunt Elfride like a shadow. After several
minutes' vain endeavour to account for any design Mrs. Jethway could
have in watching her, Elfride decided to