The Haute Noblesse. George Manville Fenn
“Oh, all right,” he cried, interrupting her, in an ill-used tone. “Just like girls. Here’s our last day before we go back to the confounded grindstone. We’ve got the boat, the weather’s lovely; we’ve been looking for you everywhere, and it’s ‘Oh no, Harry!’ And Madelaine looking as if it would be too shocking to go for a sail.”
“We don’t like to disappoint you,” said Madelaine, “but—”
“But you’d rather stay ashore,” said the young man shortly. “Never mind, Vic, old chap, we’ll go alone, and have a good smoke. Cheerful, isn’t it? I say, Uncle Luke, you’re quite right.”
“First time you ever thought so then,” said the old man shortly.
“Perhaps Miss Vine will reconsider her determination,” said the young man’s companion, in a low soft voice, as he went toward Louise, and seemed to Duncan Leslie to be throwing all the persuasion possible into his manner.
“Oh, no, thank you, Mr. Pradelle,” she replied hastily, and Duncan Leslie once more felt relieved and yet pained, for there was a peculiar consciousness in her manner.
“We had brought some cans with us and a hammer and chisel,” continued Pradelle. “Harry thought we might go as far as the gorns.”
“Zorns, man,” cried Harry.
“I beg pardon, zorns, and get a few specimens for Mr. Vine.”
“It was very kind and thoughtful of Harry,” said Louise hastily, “and we are sorry to disappoint him—on this his last day—but—”
“Blessed but!” said Harry, with a sneer; and he gave Madelaine a withering look, which made her bite her lip.
“And the fish swarming round the point,” said Uncle Luke impatiently. “Why don’t you go with them, girls?”
“Right again, uncle,” said Harry.
The old man made him a mocking bow.
“Go, uncle?” said Louise eagerly, and then checking herself.
Duncan Leslie’s heart sank like an ingot of his own copper dropped in a tub.
“Yes, go.”
“If you think so, uncle—”
“Well, I do,” he said testily, “only pray go at once.”
“There!” cried Harry. “Come, Maddy.”
He held out his hand to his sister’s companion, but she hesitated, still looking at Louise, whose colour was going and coming as she saw Pradelle take off his cap and follow his friend’s example, holding out his hand to help her into the boat.
“Yes, dear,” she said to Madelaine gravely. “They would be terribly disappointed if we did not go.”
The next moment Madelaine was in the boat, Louise still hanging back till, feeling that it would be a slight worse than the refusal to go if she ignored the help extended to her, she laid her hand in Pradelle’s and stepped off the rock into the gently rising and falling boat.
“Another of my mistakes,” said Duncan Leslie to himself; and then he started as if some one had given him an electric shock.
“Hullo!” cried the old man, “You’re going too?”
“I? going?”
“Yes, of course! To take care of them. I’m not going to have them set off without some one to act as ballast to those boys.”
Louise mentally cast her arms round the old man’s neck and kissed him.
Harry, in the same manner, kicked his uncle into the sea, and Pradelle’s eyes looked closer together than usual, as he turned them upon the young mine-owner.
“I should only be too happy,” said the latter, “if—”
“Oh, there’s plenty of room, Mr. Leslie,” cried the girls in duet. “Pray come.”
The invitation was so genuine that Leslie’s heart seemed to leap.
“Oh, yes, plenty of room,” said Harry, “only if the wind drops, you’ll have to pull an oar.”
“Of course,” said Leslie, stepping in.
Harry raised the boat-hook, and thrust the little vessel away, and then began to step the mast.
“Lay hold of the rudder, Leslie,” he cried. “Send us up some fish for tea, uncle.”
“I’ll wait and see first whether you come back,” said the old man. “Good-bye, girls. Don’t be uneasy. I’ll go and tell the old people if you’re drowned.”
“Thank you,” shouted back the young man as he hoisted the little sail, which began to fill at once, and by the time he had it sheeted home, the boat was swiftly running eastward with the water pattering against her bows, and a panorama of surpassing beauty seeming to glide slowly by them on the left.
“There!” cried Harry to his friend, who had seated himself rather sulkily forward, the order to take the tiller having placed Leslie between Louise and Madelaine. “Make much of it, Vic: Paddington to-morrow night, hansom cab or the Underground, and next morning the office. Don’t you feel happy?”
“Yes, now,” said Pradelle, with a glance at Louise.
“Easy, Leslie, easy,” cried Harry; “where are you going?”
“I beg pardon,” said the young man hastily, for he had unwittingly changed the course of the boat.
“That’s better. Any one would think you wanted to give Uncle Luke the job he talked about.”
Madelaine looked up hastily.
“No; we will not do that, Miss Van Heldre,” said Leslie smiling. “Shall I hold the sheet, Vine?”
“No need,” said the young man, making the rope fast.
“But—”
“Oh, all right. I know what you’re going to say—puff of wind might lay us over as we pass one of the combes. Wasn’t born here for nothing.”
Leslie said no more, but deferred to the opinion of the captain of the boat.
“Might as well have brought a line to trail. You’d have liked to fish, wouldn’t you, Vic?”
“Only when we are alone,” said Pradelle. “Can you tell me the name of that point, Miss Vine?”
“Brea,” said Louise quietly.
“And that little valley?”
“Tol Du. The old Cornish names must sound strange to any one from London.”
“Oh, no,” he said, bending forward to engage her in conversation. “This place is very interesting, and I shall regret going,” he added with a sigh, and a thoughtful look toward the picturesque little group of houses on either side of the estuary.
“I should think you will,” said Harry. “Never mind, we’ve had a very jolly time. I say, Maddy,” he whispered, “you will write to a fellow, won’t you?”
“No,” she said quietly; “there is no need.”
“No need?”
“Louie will be writing to you every week, and you will answer her. I shall hear how you are getting on.”
Harry whistled and looked angrily at his sister, who was replying to some remark made by Leslie.
“Here, Vic,” he said, “she’s too heavy forward. Come and sit by my sister. That’s better. A little more over to the side, Leslie. Always trim your boat.”
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