She had not waited a minute, before Captain Margaret entered. She had expected to see him troubled, and to hear the ring of emotion in his voice as he greeted her. She had half expected to be surprised by some rush of frantic passion. But he entered smiling, greeting her with a laugh. She felt at once, from his manner, from his obvious dislike for her hand, which he scarcely touched and then dropped, an implied shrinking from her husband. It gave her firmness. He looked at her eyes a moment, wondering with what love they had looked at Stukeley during the night-watches. The thought came to him that she was a beautiful soiled thing, to be pitied and tenderly reproved. The image of Stukeley cast too dark a shadow for any brighter thought of her. When she began to speak she had him bound and helpless. “Well, Olivia,” he said gaily, “I’m glad I came in time to catch you.” “Yes,” she answered, “we were just going. We have been---- And how did you come here?” She found it harder to talk to him than she had expected. “I came here in my ship,” he answered. “I wanted to see you, to wish you, to hope--to wish you all happiness. Before I leave England.” She smiled. “Thank you very much,” she said. “Are you leaving England for long?” “It may be a long time. If all goes well, it will be a very long time.” “I had not heard that you were going abroad. To what part are you going? Italy again?” “No. I’m going to Darien.” It seemed to him to be almost tragical that she really did not know where Darien lay. “The Spanish Main,” he added. “Ah, yes,” she said. He covered her retreat by saying that he was going to Virginia first. She looked at him with quickened interest. “Going in your ship,” she said. “That sounds very grand. Is she in Salcombe here? Which is she among all those schooners?” “That one,” he answered, pointing through the window. “The ship with the flag.” “And you’re leaving England at once?” “Yes. This afternoon’s tide.” “But what are you going to do when you get there?” “Oh, don’t let’s talk about that,” he answered. “Tell me about yourself, and your plans. What are you going to do, now you’re leaving Salcombe? Will you go home to Flaxley?” “No,” she answered, colouring slightly. “Uncle Nestor was rather rude to Tom, to my husband.” The captain bit his lip, and gazed out absently over the sea. He had heard why Uncle Nestor had been rude. The knowledge made him doubtful of Olivia’s future happiness. “So I suppose you’ll go back to town,” he answered, “and settle down. What do married people do, when they settle down?” “Oh,” she said, “I’ve great schemes for Tom. He’s going to stand for Parliament. But I want to know what you’re going to do in Darien. What is your scheme?”