"Oh, dear, no, now that I know you apart. You are utterly unlike, except in height. How broad he is! Hasn't he a wonderful back?" she cried, admiring the tall, straight figure of the walker. "He got that on the farm." "It is worth a farm to have shoulders like his, I should say. You must introduce Mr. Veath to me." Hugh looked at the moon very thoughtfully for a few moments and then, as if remembering, said that he would be happy to do so, and was sure that Veath would be even happier. At this moment the tall, lank form of Lord Huntingford approached. He was peering intently at the people in the chairs as he passed them, plainly searching for some one. "There is Lord Huntingford looking for you," said Hugh, rising. He saw a trace of annoyance in her face as she also arose. "I overheard him telling the captain that Lady Huntingford--your mother--plays a miserable game of crib." She started and turned sharply upon him. "My mother, Mr. Ridge?" she said slowly. "Yes; your father was guying Captain Shadburn about his game, you know." The look of wonder in her eyes increased; she passed her hand across her brow and then through her hair in evident perplexity, all the while staring at his face. There was a tinge of suspicion in her voice when she spoke. "Mr. Ridge, don't you know?" "Know what?" "You surely know that I am not Lord Huntingford's--" "You don't mean to say that you are not his daughter," gasped Hugh, dubious as to her meaning. "I am Lady Huntingford." "His wife?" "His wife." Hugh, too dumbfounded to speak, could do no more than doff his cap as she took the arm of the gray lord and softly said to him: "Good-night, Mr. Ridge." CHAPTER X A SHARP ENCOUNTER The _Tempest Queen_ carried a merry cargo. The young officers, the Americans and rich pleasure seekers from other lands--young and old--made up a happy company. Of all on board, but one was despised and loathed by his fellow-travellers--Lord Huntingford. Not so much for his manner toward them as for his harsh, bitter attitude toward his young wife. He reprimanded and criticised her openly, very much as he would have spoken to a child, and always undeservedly. She endured patiently, to all appearances, and her cloud of humiliation was swept away by the knowledge that her new friends saw the injustice of his attacks. She did not pose before them as a martyr; but they could see the subdued and angry pride and the checked rebellion, for the mask of submission was thin, even though it was dutiful.