Jack Blythe, too, was not in his usual spirits. The fair manageress had fully intended to enlist the handsome young officer amongst her volunteers, but he had decidedly refused to take any part in the amusement, and she laid it all down to the charge of Alice Leyton, and grew still more angry with her in consequence. But when the cold weather continued to debar the ladies from sitting on deck, and the evenings became long and tedious, the idea of the theatricals was once more revived, and hailed as a distraction. Since the smoke-room had been deserted by the card-players, the younger couples had crept in and taken possession of it, and on the morning after the swamping of the after cabin, several of them assembled there, with their books and work and writing, Captain Lovell, as usual, looking unutterable things at the love-stricken Alice, and Mr Fowler, who had never disclosed the secrets of his past, his present, nor his future, to his fellow-passengers, basking in the smiles of Miss Vere, with whom he was a great favourite. Poor Harold Greenwood, who had fallen into terrible disgrace with most of the ship’s company since his little _escapade_ with the lighted lucifer, and who had tried to indemnify himself for cold looks and flagging conversation, by falling hopelessly in love with the actress, was worshipping her at a respectful distance, and Pemberton was doing the agreeable to Mrs Vansittart, whose daughter, despite all her maternal warnings, persisted in walking the poop deck on the arm of Godfrey Harland. Mr Vansittart was also present, although he could not be numbered amongst the young people, but his genial nature made him welcome everywhere. The old gentleman was not so easy in his mind, however, as he professed to be. Sundry hints and rumours concerning Harland had greatly disturbed him lately, and he had made up his mind to speak seriously to Grace on the subject. She had refused to listen to her mother’s advice, but, if necessary, he would force her to attend to his orders. He was not satisfied with what he had heard, nor with himself for having admitted a stranger so intimately to their society. However, luckily nothing was settled as yet, and he was determined to stop any further philandering until he had had an opportunity to inquire into the young man’s antecedents and connections. ‘Where is Grace?’ were the first words he had addressed to his wife on joining her. ‘I don’t know, my dear,’ was the reply. ‘She left me half-an-hour ago--’ ‘Miss Vansittart is on the poop with Mr Harland,’ interposed Alice Leyton; ‘I saw them walking there just now.’ ‘I must go and put a stop to this,’ said Mr Vansittart, commencing to button up his greatcoat again. His wife laid her hand on his arm. ‘Not just now, my dear. Wait till after lunch. It will look so peculiar to drag her away from him in the sight of everybody.’ ‘You are right, old lady,’ he said, reseating himself. ‘The business will keep till after lunch.’