She thought of Gilbert Fenton a good deal during the rest of that day;
thought that it was a pleasant thing to be loved so truly, and hoped that
she might always have him for her friend. When she went out to drink tea
in the evening his image went with her; and she found herself making
involuntary comparisons between a specimen of provincial youth whom she
encountered at her friend's house and Mr. Fenton, very much to the
advantage of the Australian merchant.
While Marian Nowell was away at this little social gathering, Captain
Sedgewick and Gilbert Fenton sat under the walnut-trees smoking their
cigars, with a bottle of claret on a little iron table before them.
"When I came back from India fourteen years ago on the sick-list," began
the Captain, "I went down to Brighton, a place I had been fond of in my
young days, to recruit. It was in the early spring, quite out of the
fashionable season, and the town was very empty. My lodgings were in a
dull street at the extreme east, leading away from the sea, but within
sight and sound of it. The solitude and quiet of the place suited me; and
I used to walk up and down the cliff in the dusk of evening enjoying the
perfect loneliness of the scene. The house I lived in was a comfortable
one, kept by an elderly widow who was a pattern of neatness and
propriety.
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