CHAPTER IX. THE GIRL HE LEFT BEHIND HIM. The day of embarkation arrived only too speedily. It was a persistently pouring wet morning, rain descending in torrents. It cleared a little towards the afternoon, and the Mayhews, accompanied by Alice, started in a close carriage for Portsmouth Dockyard. They had insisted on her accompanying them, saying that, if she did not, it would give rise to a great deal of unpleasant discussion among their friends, several of whom lived at Southsea. “It is only fair to Reginald,” urged Helen. “He has not had time to clear himself yet, and at any rate before the _world_ you will have to keep up appearances. How you can allow him to go--how you can doubt him, I cannot imagine. You will be exceedingly sorry for yourself some day,” she added in a lower voice, accompanied by a look of keen-edged meaning quite lost upon Alice, who was staring vacantly out of the window. They soon arrived at The Hard, Portsea, and descried the huge white _Alligator_ lying alongside. The most frightful confusion prevailed on all sides, and the noise and din and pushing and shoving were beyond description. Baggage bewailed as lost; baggage going on board; soldiers’ wives, who were being left behind, in loud lamentation; friends who came to see people off, rather cheery and important than otherwise; friends who were really sorry, and on the verge of tears; dogs being smuggled on board; dogs being turned out; wherever you looked there was bustle and confusion! The Mayhew party gingerly ascended the long and slippery gangway, and asked for Sir Reginald Fairfax. “Yes, he was below, God bless him!” said an Irishwoman, who was wiping her eyes with the tail of her dress. “It’s many a sore heart he has lightened this day.” “How so?” inquired Mrs. Mayhew graciously. “Hasn’t he given ten pounds to every woman that’s not on the strength, and is left behind, meeself among them--and me wid three childer? May the heavens be his bed! may he never know sickness or grief! May he never know what it is to have as sore a heart as mine is this day! May the Holy Virgin protect him!” It was in vain they tried to stem this torrent of blessings; the woman would not let them out of her sight. Addressing herself specially to Alice, she said: “Maybe you’re his sweetheart, or his sister, alannah! His sweetheart, I’m sure?” she urged insinuatingly. “No, neither,” replied Alice, blushing furiously, and making a wild and at last effectual effort to reach the top of the saloon stairs, leaving the Irishwoman still pouring benedictions on her husband’s head.