she said, softly; “he would not dare!”
Then turning and taking the seat her brother had vacated, a desolate look of misery came over her handsome face, which drooped slowly into her hands, and she sat there weeping silently as she thought of the wedding that was to take place the next day.
Chapter Three
At the Church Door
Captain James Armstrong had a few more words with his cousin, Lieutenant Humphrey, anent his marriage.
“Perhaps you would like me to marry that girl off the beach,” he said, “Mr Morality?”
“I don’t profess to be a pattern of morality, cousin,” replied the lieutenant, shortly.
“And don’t like pretty girls, of course,” sneered the captain. “Sailors never do.”
“I suppose I’m a man, Jem,” said Humphrey, “and like pretty girls; but I hope I should never be such a scoundrel as to make a girl miserable by professing to care for her, and then throwing her away like a broken toy.”
“Scoundrel, eh?” said the captain, hotly.
“Yes. Scoundrel – confounded scoundrel!” retorted the lieutenant. “We’re ashore now, and discipline’s nowhere, my good cousin, so don’t ruffle up your hackles and set up your comb and pretend you are going to peck, for you are as great a coward now, as you were when I was a little schoolboy and you were the big tyrant and sneak.”
“You shall pay for this, sir,” cried the captain.
“Pish! Now, my good cousin, you are not a fool. You know I am not in the least afraid of you.”
“I’ll make you some day,” said the captain, bitterly. “You shall smart for all this.”
“Not I. It is you who will smart. There, go and marry your rich wife, and much happiness may you get out of the match! I’m only troubled about one thing, and that is whether it is not my duty to tell the lady – poor creature! – what a blackguard she is going to wed.”
Captain James Armstrong altered the sit of his cocked hat, brushed some imaginary specks off his new uniform, and turned his back upon his cousin, ignoring the extended hand. But he did as he was told – he went and was duly married, Lieutenant Humphrey being present and walking close behind, to see just outside the church door the flashing eyes and knitted brow of Mary Dell on one side; while beyond her, but unseen by Humphrey, were her brother Abel, and Bart, who stood with folded arms and a melodramatic scowl upon his ugly face.
“She’s going to make a scene,” thought Humphrey; and, pushing before the bride and bridegroom, he interposed, from a feeling of loyalty to the former, perhaps from a little of the same virtue toward a member of his family.
Mary looked up at him, at first in surprise, and then she smiled bitterly.
“Don’t be alarmed, sir,” she said coldly. “I only came to see the captain’s wife.”
“Poor lass!” muttered the lieutenant, as he saw Mary draw back among the people gathered together. “She seemed to read me like a book.”
He caught one more sight of Mary Dell standing at a distance, holding her brother’s arm, as the captain entered the heavy, lumbering coach at the church gate. Then she disappeared, the crowd melted away, and the bells rang a merry peal, the ringers’ muscles having been loosened with ale; and as the bride and bridegroom went off to the lady’s home at an old hall near Slapton Lea, Mary returned slowly to the cottage down in the little cove, and Humphrey went to the wedding breakfast, and afterwards to his ship.
Chapter Four
A Month Later
About a month after the marriage Captain James Armstrong was returning one night on horseback from Dartmouth to the home of his wife’s family, where he was sojourning prior to setting off upon a long voyage, it having been decided that the young couple should not set up in housekeeping till his return from sea, so that the lady might have some companionship during his absence.
He had been to the principal inn to dine with some officers whose vessels had just touched there from Falmouth, and Humphrey, who had been present, had felt some doubt about letting him go home alone.
“You’ve had too much punch, Jem,” he said. “Sleep here to-night, and don’t let your young wife see you in that state.”
“You’re a fool,” was the surly reply.
“You can get a good bed here, and ride home in the morning,” said Humphrey, quietly. “You had better stay.”
“Mind your own business, upstart,” cried the captain; and ordering his horse he mounted and set off with a lurch, first on one side, and then on the other, each threatening to send him out of the saddle.
“He’ll be all right, Armstrong,” said a jovial-looking officer, watching. “Come, have another glass. By the time he is at the top of the long hill he will be sober as a judge.”
“Perhaps so,” said Humphrey aloud. Then to himself, “I don’t half like it, though. The road’s bad, and I shouldn’t care for anything to happen to him, even if it is to make me heir to the estate. I wish I had not let him go.”
He returned to the room where the officers had commenced a fresh bowl of punch, for they had no longer journey before them than upstairs to their rooms, and there were plenty of servants to see them safely into bed, as was the custom in dealing with the topers of that day.
“I’ve done wrong,” said Humphrey Armstrong, after partaking of one glass of punch and smoking a single pipe of tobacco from a tiny bowl of Dutch ware. “He was not fit to go home alone.”
He said this to himself as an officer was trolling forth an anacreontic song.
“It’s a long walk, but I shall not feel comfortable unless I see whether he has got home safely; and it will clear away the fumes of the liquor. Here goes.”
He slipped out of the room, and, taking a stout stick which was the companion of his hat, he started forth into the cool night air, and walked sturdily away in the direction of his cousin’s home.
About half an hour later the drowsy groom, who was sitting up for the captain’s return, rose with a sigh of satisfaction, for he heard the clattering of hoofs in the stable-yard.
“At last!” he cried; and, taking a lighted lantern, he hurried out, to stand in dismay staring at the empty saddle, which had been dragged round under the horse’s belly, and at the trembling animal, breathing hard and shaking its head.
“Why, she’s all of a muck,” muttered the man; “and the captain ar’n’t on her. He be fallen off, I’d zwear.”
The man stood staring for a few minutes, while the horse pawed impatiently, as if asking to be admitted to its stable. Then he opened the door, the weary beast went in, and the man stood staring with true Devon stolidity before he bethought him of the necessity for removing the saddle from its awkward position.
This seen to, it suddenly occurred to him that something ought to be done about the captain, and he roused up the coachman to spread the alarm in the house.
“Nay, we’ll only scare the poor ladies
