The Real Charlotte. 287 



their blades more and more languidly into the water, then 

 they ceased, and the vessel slid silently alongside the jetty, 

 with ihe sentient ease of a living thing. The warps were 

 flung ashore, the gangways thrust on board, and in an 

 instant the sailors were running ashore with the mail bags 

 on their backs, like a string of ants with their eggs. The 

 usual crowd of loafers and people vvho had come to meet 

 their friends formed round the passengers' gangway, and the 

 passengers filed down it in the brief and uncoveted dis- 

 tinction that the exit from a steamer affords. 



Lady Dysart headed her party as they left the steamer, 

 and her imposing figure in her fur-lined cloak so filled the 

 gangway that Pamela could not, at first, see who it was that 

 met her mother as she stepped on to the platform. The 

 next moment she found herself shaking hands with Mr. 

 Lambert, and then, to her unbounded astonishment, with 

 Miss Fitzpatrick. The lamps were throwing strong light 

 and shadow upon Francie's face, and Pamela's first thought 

 was how much thinner she had become. 



" Mr. Lambert and I missed our train back to Bray," 

 Francie began at once in a hurried deprecating voice, " and 

 we came down to see the boat come in just to pass the 

 time — " Her voice stopped as if she had suddenly gasped 

 for breath, and Pamela heard Hawkins' voice say behind 

 her : 



*' How de do. Miss Fitzpatrick ? Who'd have thought of 

 meetin' you here ? " in a tone of cheerfully casual acquaint- 

 anceship. 



Even Pamela, with all her imaginative sympathy, did not 

 guess what Francie felt in that sick and flinching moment, 

 when everything rung and tingled round her as if she had 

 been struck ; the red had deserted her cheek like a cowardly 

 defender, and the ground felt uneven under her feet, but 

 the instinct of self-control that is born of habit and con- 

 vention in the feeblest of us came mechanically to her 

 help. 



" And I never thought I'd see you either," she answered, 

 in the same tone ; " I suppose you're all going to Lismoyle 

 together, Miss Dysart ? " 



" No, we stay in Dublin to-night," said Pamela, with 

 sufficient consciousness of the situation to wish to shorten 



