Mr. Whippleton was indignant. He talked honest, and I could not gainsay him. I was almost inclined to believe that I was a fool, and had made a blunder; but as he was willing to go to Chicago, I was satisfied to leave the adjustment of the whole matter to Mr. Collingsby. We went on deck, and as there was a little breeze, we tripped the anchor, and stood up the lagoon. I was bewildered; but my heaviest catastrophe was yet to come. CHAPTER XXIII. IN WHICH PHIL, IN THE MARIAN, GETS THE WEATHER-GAGE OF THE FLORINA. There was scarcely a breath of wind when we weighed anchor. Mr. Whippleton insisted upon running up to the Florina, in order to leave his tender, and to obtain certain articles he had left on board. The breeze entirely failed before we had made half the distance, and we were obliged to anchor again to prevent being drifted ashore. Mr. Whippleton and old Peter took both the tenders, and visited the Florina, leaving Marian and myself alone again. "I am so thankful that you had no quarrel," said she, as we sat together in the standing-room, watching the receding boats. "So am I, Marian." "And it seems that you were mistaken in regard to his accounts." "I don't think I was," I replied, rather warmly. "I am perplexed and bothered; but I don't see how I can be mistaken." "Mr. Whippleton would not be willing to return to Chicago, if he had been such a villain as you say." "I don't think he would. That is really all the evidence I have that he has not been stealing his partner's money. I don't understand it; but if he will return to Chicago, that is all I desire. I prefer that he should settle the matter with your father." "But he knew all about Mr. Waterford's plans," added she, turning away from me, though the gloom of the evening hid her blushes. "Yes; he said he did. He told me that, if Mr. Waterford loved you, and you loved Mr. Waterford, he could see no reason why you should not be happy together, in spite of the prejudices of your father." "I never consented to elope with Mr. Waterford. It is true that I listened to his proposal, several weeks ago; but I did not agree to it. He did not renew it when I asked for time to think of it. I don't love him now; I can't say that I ever did, though I was rather pleased with him. After this, I'm sure I shall always think more of a gentleman's character than of his looks and manners." "I think the character is of vastly more importance," I replied, judging from observation rather than experience. "Do you think Mr. Whippleton will come back, Philip?" "Come back? Yes," I replied, rather startled by the question. "He may take one of those boats, go on shore, and make his way across the state to the east." "Then you think it is possible that I was not mistaken in regard to the accounts of Mr. Whippleton?" "Of course it is possible. It just occurred to me that he might have taken this method of getting rid of you."