Three or four rough-looking men, of whom
one, a certain Captain Magnus, belonged to our party and the rest
to the ship, continued vigorously to hack their way through the
meal with clattering knives and forks. Of other sounds there was
none. Such gloom weighed heavily on the genial spirit of Mr.
Tubbs, and he lightened it by rising to propose a toast.
"Ladies and gentlemen, to her now unfortunately laid low by the
pangs of _mal de mer_--our friend and bony dear, Miss Harding!"
This was bewildering, for neither by friend nor foe could Aunt Jane
be called bony. Later, in the light of Mr. Tubbs's passion for
classical allusion, I decided to translate it _bona dea_, and
consider the family complimented. At the moment I sat stunned, but
Miss Browne, with greater self-possession, majestically inclined
her head and said:
"In the name of our absent friend, I thank you." In spite of
wistful looks from the beautiful youth as we rose from the table,
and the allurement of a tropic moon, I remained constant to duty
and Aunt Jane, and immured myself in her stateroom, where I passed
an enlivening evening listening to her moans. She showed a faint
returning spark of life when I mentioned Cuthbert Vane, and raised
her head to murmur that he was Honorable and she understood though
not the heir still likely to inherit and perhaps after all
Providence--
The unspoken end of Aunt Jane's sentence pursued me into dreams in
which an unknown gentleman obligingly broke his neck riding to
hounds and left Apollo heir to the title and estates.
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