his morning
afore we started.'

'Lord Mountclere's?'

'Yes--a nobleman of this neighbourhood. But he don't do so much at
yachting as he used to in his younger days. I believe he's aboard this
morning, however.'

Ethelberta now became more absorbed than ever in their ocean comrade, and
watched its motions continually. The schooner was considerably in
advance of them by this time, and seemed to be getting by degrees out of
their course. She wondered if Lord Mountclere could be really going to
Cherbourg: if so, why had he said nothing about the trip to her when she
spoke of her own approaching voyage thither? The yacht changed its
character in her eyes; losing the indefinite interest of the unknown, it
acquired the charm of a riddle on motives, of which the alternatives
were, had Lord Mountclere's journey anything to do with her own, or had
it not? Common probability pointed to the latter supposition; but the
time of starting, the course of the yacht, and recollections of Lord
Mountclere's homage, suggested the more extraordinary possibility.

She went across to Cornelia. 'The man who handed us on board--didn't I
see him speaking to you this morning?' she said.

'O yes,' said Cornelia. 'He asked if my mistress was the popular Mrs.
Petherwin?

'And you told him, I suppose?'

'Yes.'

'What made you do that, Cornelia?'

'I thought I might: I couldn't help it. When I went through the toll-
gate, such a gentlemanly-looking man asked me if he should help me to
carry the things to the end of the pier; and as we went on together he
said he supposed me to be Mrs. Petherwin's maid. I said, "Yes." The two
men met afterwards, so there would ha' been no good in my denying it to
one of 'em.'

'Who was this gentlemanly person?'

'I asked the other man that, and he told me one of Lord Mountclere's
upper servants. I knew then there was no harm in having been civil to
him. He is well-mannered, and talks splendid language.'

'That yacht you see on our right hand is Lord Mountclere's property. If
I do not mistake, we shall have her closer by-and-by, and you may meet
your gentlemanly friend again. Be careful how you talk to him.'

Ethelberta sat down, thought of the meeting at Corvsgate Castle, of the
dinner-party at Mr. Doncastle's, of the strange position she had there
been in, and then of her father. She suddenly reproached herself for
thoughtlessness; for in her pocket lay a letter from him, which she had