|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedablloa
 

'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?yilai：
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|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmbok