due to our common
recollections, she talked of him simply and well--as befitted her
situation, a worldling might say. But she did not conceal her relief in
escaping to this quaint little refuge (she threw a kindly-comical look,
not overtoned, at the miniature ships on the mantelpiece, and the picture
of Joseph leading Mary with her babe on the ass) from the temptations I
could imagine a face like hers would expose her to. The face was
splendid, the figure already overblown. I breathed some thanks to my
father while she and I conversed apart. The miller was dead, her brother
in America. She had no other safe home than the one Captain Welsh had
opened to her. When I asked her (I had no excuse for it) whether she
would consent to go to Edbury again, she reddened and burst into tears. I
cursed my brutality. 'Let her cry,' said Captain Welsh on parting with us
at his street door. 'Tears are the way of women and their comfort.'

To our astonishment he told us he intended to take her for a voyage in
the Priscilla. 'Why?' we asked.

'I take her,' he said, 'because not to do things wholly is worse than not
to do things at all, for it 's waste of time and cause for a chorus
below, down in hell, my young friends. The woman is beautiful as
Solomon's bride. She is weak as water. And the man is wicked. He has
written to her a letter. He would have her reserved for himself, a wedded
man: such he is, or is soon to be. I am searching, and she is not
deceitful; and I am a poor man again and must go the voyage. I wrestled
with her, and by grace I conquered her to come with me of a free will,
and be out of his snares. Aboard I do not fear him, and she shall know
the mercy of the Lord on high seas.'

We grimaced a little on her behalf, but had nothing to reply.

Seeing Janet after Mabel was strange. In the latter one could perceive
the palpably suitable mate for Edbury.

I felt that my darling was insulted--no amends for it I had to keep
silent and mark the remorseless preparations going forward. Not so
Heriot. He had come over from the camp in Ireland on leave at this
juncture. His talk of women still suggested the hawk with the downy
feathers of the last little plucked bird sticking to his beak; but his
appreciation of Janet and some kindness for me made him a vehement
opponent of her resolve. He took licence of his friendship to lay every
incident before her, to complete his persuasions. She resisted his
attacks, as I knew she would