There was a path up the hillside – the very path Captain Cavendish had been shown by the young Nettlebys the day before. Val turned up this, with his hands in his pockets, and his mind in a state of soliloquy.
"I'm not wanted, I expect; so I'll keep clear! There's something queer about this – they were both taken aback last night, were they not? She's a pretty little thing, and he's been in Montreal, I know; was quartered there before he was ordered to Halifax. I suppose it's the old story – he always was a flirt, and his handsome face sets the girls loony wherever he goes. Miss Rose looks sensible, but I dare say she's as bad as the rest."
Val's suspicions might have become certainty had he been listening to the conversation of the young officer and the little school-teacher; but there was no one to listen, except the waves and the wind, and the seagulls clanging over their heads.
"Winnie!" Captain Cavendish was hurriedly saying, "I knew you would be here, and I have been waiting for the past half hour. No, do not go! Pray stay and hear me out."
"I must go!" Miss Rose said, in a violent tremor and agitation. "You have nothing to say to me, Captain Cavendish. I cannot be seen here with you."
"There is no one to see us – the shore is deserted! Winnie! you must stay."
She had turned to go; but he caught her hand, his own face pale as hers had turned.
"Let go my hand, sir!" she cried, in so peremptory a tone that he dropped it at once; "every word you speak to me is an insult! Let me go!"
"Only one moment, Winnie."
Again she interposed, her eyes quite flashing.
"Have the goodness, Captain Cavendish, to be a little less familiar; to cease calling me Winnie."
"What shall I call you, then?" he said, with a strange look, "Miss Rose?"
She turned away, and made a little passionate gesture with her hand.
"You have no right to call me anything – to speak to me at all! I do not know what evil fate has driven us together here; but if you have one feeling of honor, Captain Cavendish, you will leave me in peace – you will let me alone. My lot is not such a happy one that you should wish to destroy the little comfort I have left."
Her voice choked and something fell on her book and wet it. The face of the English officer looked strangely moved for him.
"Heaven knows, Winnie, I have no desire to disturb it; I have been a villain – we both know that – but destiny was against me. I am poor; I am in debt – I was then – what could I do?"
"Will you let me go?" was her answer, without turning her averted face to him.
"Am I, then, utterly hateful to you?" he asked, with some bitterness. "You have soon forgotten the past, but I deserve it! I do not ask what chain of circumstances brought you here; I only ask, being here, that you will not reveal the story of – of what is past and gone. Will you promise me this, Winnie?"
"What right have you to ask any promise of me?" she demanded, her gentle voice full of indignation.
"Very little, I know; but still, I want the promise, Winnie, for your own sake, as well as for me."
"I am not likely to tell; the story of one's own folly is not too pleasant to repeat. And now, in return, Captain Cavendish, I want, I demand, a promise from you! We met last night as strangers, as strangers let us meet henceforth. Go your own way. I shall not molest you, never fear; and be generous enough to grant me the same favor. My life is to be one of hard work. I do not regret that. Let me find happiness in my own way, and do not disturb me any more."
"And it has all come to this!" he said, moodily, looking out over the wide sea. "Well, Winnie, let it be as you wish, only I never thought you could be so unforgiving."
"I have forgiven long ago; I want to try and forget as well!"
She walked rapidly away. Only once had she looked at him all the time – after that first glance of recognition, her face had been averted.
Captain Cavendish watched her out of sight, took two or three turns up and down the sand, and then strolled away to his lodgings. His rooms were in the Speckport House, fronting on Queen Street; and after disposing of his beefsteak and coffee with a very good appetite, he seated himself near an open window, to smoke no end of cigars and watch the passers-by.
A great many passers-by there were, and nearly all strangers to him; but presently, two young men went strutting past, arm-in-arm, and, chancing to look at his window, lifted their hats in passing. A sudden thought seemed to flash through the officer's mind as he saw them, and, seizing his hat, he started out after them. It was young McGregor and Charley Marsh, and he speedily overtook them.
"I have been sitting there for over half an hour," he said, taking Charley's other arm, familiarly, "watching society go by, and you two were the first I knew. Being tired of my own company, I thought I would join you. Have a cigar?"
"You find Speckport rather slow, I suppose?" said Charley, lighting his weed. "I should myself, if I had nothing to do."
"Oh, I am used to it; and," with a droll look, "I have discovered there is more than one pill to kill time, even in Speckport."
"Already! where do you mean?"
"Prince Street, for instance."
Charley laughed, and young McGregor smiled.
"You go there, do you? Well, I have lived all my life in Speckport, but I have never set foot over the threshold you mean, yet."
"Nor I," said young McGregor. "By George, wouldn't the old man look half-a-dozen ways at once if he thought I would dare look at it twice."
There was a smile on Captain Cavendish's face, half of amusement, half of contempt.
"I am going there now, and was about asking you to accompany me for an hour's amusement. Come on, better late than never."
Charley hesitated, coloring and laughing, but McGregor caught at the invitation at once.
"I say, Marsh, let us go! I've always wanted to go there, but never had a chance without the governor finding it out, and kicking up the deuce of a row!"
"I have the entree," said Captain Cavendish; "no one will be the wiser, and if they should, what matter? It is only to kill time, after all."
But still Charley hesitated, half laughing, half tempted, half reluctant. "That is all very well from Captain Cavendish, nephew of a baronet, and with more money than he knows what to do with; but it's of no use going to that place with empty pockets, and medical students, it is proverbial, never have anything to spare. No, I think you must hold me excused."
"Oh, confound it, Charley," exclaimed McGregor, impatiently, "I'll lend you whatever you want. Fetch him along, captain; what he says is only gammon."
"Perhaps," said the captain, with a cynical smile, "Mr. Marsh has conscientious scruples – some people have, I am told. If so – "
He did not finish the sentence, but the smile deepened. That mocking smile did more to overthrow Charley's resolution than any words could have done. He turned at once in the direction of Prince Street: "The only scruples I know anything about relate to weights and measures, and I believe these are in a dram. I have a couple of hours before dinner; so until then, I am at your service, captain."
The trio turned into Prince Street – a quiet street, with staid rows of white houses, and only one of any pretension, at one of its quiet corners. Captain Cavendish ran up the steps, with the air of a man perfectly at home, opened the outer door and rang the bell. There were few people passing, but