IN BRUNSWICK TERRACE.

That same afternoon all Brighton was astir with curiosity because of a large vessel that had slowly come in from the west before an almost imperceptible breeze. She came unusually, and, as some thought, dangerously close in shore; and no doubt she looked even larger than she really was, for she had every stitch of canvas set, from her royals down to her lower studding sails, that stood out on each side like great bat’s wings; while all this mass of sail was dark in shadow against the western glow. As the spectators watched her, those among them who knew a little about nautical matters guessed that this must be a man-of-war from the rapidity with which she began to furl her sails letting the golden light shine along between her spars; while they further concluded, from the fact that only a kedge was thrown out at her bows, that her stay in these shallow waters would be brief.

Now we must see how the advent of this stranger was regarded by the occupants of a certain drawing-room in Brunswick Terrace. These were five a mother, son, and three daughters; and as they will all appear, more or less, in the following history, it may be as well to introduce them now and categorically to the reader.

First of all came Lady Beresford herself an elderly, sallow-faced, weak-looking woman, the widow of a General Officer who had got his K.C.B.-ship for long service in India. She had a nervous system that she worshipped as a sort of fetish; and in turn the obliging divinity relieved her from many of the cares and troubles of this wearyful world. For how could she submit to any discomfort or privation (the family were not very well off for their station in life); or how could she receive objectionable visitors, or investigate cases of harrowing distress, or remonstrate with careless livery-stable keepers, or call to account extortionate milliners when this precious nervous system had to be considered? Lady Beresford turned away from these things and ordered round her bath-chair, and was taken out to the end of the Pier, that she might be soothed by the music and the sea air.

The eldest daughter in this drawing-room (the eldest daughter of the family was married and in India) had not much nervousness about her. She was a handsome, tall, blonde girl of the clear-cut English type, cold and even proud in manner, strict in the performance of all her duties, and not very charitable in her criticism of others. She had a good figure; she dressed well; clear health shone in her pale fair face and bright cold eyes. She was a daring horsewoman. Her brother called her ‘Nails,’ which was a final contraction for ‘Old Hard-as-Nails.’

The next sister, Edith, that same graceless youth was in the habit of calling ‘The Sentimental.’ She was the darkest of the family, and the most beautiful also, where every one was more or less good-looking. She had soft brown hair, dark blue-gray eyes of the tenderest expression, and a beseeching innocent look. She was fond of music; played and sang very fairly herself; but she was most admirable as a listener. In a room filled with half-murmuring people, she alone remained mute and devoted; her chair drawn close to the piano; her form motionless. It is true her brother boldly attributed Edith’s strict observance of this attitude to the fact that she knew she had a striking profile, and that in no other way could she be so well seen by the room. But then there are some people who will say anything.

In point of family order Nan Beresford came next; but, as we have seen, she was at this moment away out on the downs, marching briskly, and much pleased with herself and the world generally.

‘The Baby’ was the youngest of the sisters a pretty child of fifteen; a trifle spoiled and bad-tempered, otherwise characterless enough. So now we may pass on to the personage who considered himself of chief consequence in the house Mr. Thomas Beresford, the only son, who now stood at the window, thrumming on the panes, to the infinite annoyance of his mother. He was an exceedingly handsome boy of about eighteen, slightly built, tall, and dressed with an elaborate precision. The lad was clever enough, and good-natured enough, but he had been spoiled all his life long first by his sisters, and then by the men who wanted to marry his sisters. He harried and worried the whole household indiscriminately, but he was especially hard upon Nan. He said Nan had a character that he wished to form. Girls wanted roughing. There was far too much flimsiness and fashionability about their social circle. In time he trusted to be able to make something out of Nan.

Well, he was thrumming contemplatively on the window-panes, watching this big dark ship come along from the west.

‘Thomas, I wish you would cease that distressing noise,’ said his mother, with a plaintive sigh.

He ceased his thrumming and took to whistling.

‘Tom,’ said the musical sister, ’I do wish you wouldn’t try to pick up new airs. You can’t do it. Why don’t you keep to “Home, Sweet Home,” or “In a Cottage near a Wood” ’

But, to give effect to this remonstrance, she had turned in her chair in which she was reading, and, in so doing, came in sight of the window, and the sea, and the new arrival there.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, ‘what a beautiful large yacht!’

The youth at the window shrugged his shoulders.

‘Well, you are a fool,’ he said politely.

‘Thank you,’ she replied.

‘I’ll tell you what it’s a man-o’-war brig,’ continued he, with an air of importance. ’And what’s more, I hope the fellow knows where he’s coming to. I don’t see them taking any soundings; and the notion of bringing a man-o’-war in here ’

He went and got an opera-glass, and returned to the window. He would make observations; perhaps, if need were, he might put off in a small boat and offer to assist in the navigation of the ship.

‘Young women,’ he exclaimed, suddenly, ’a light strikes me. That’s the Fly-by-night.’

‘You pretend you can make out the ship’s name at that distance,’ said the eldest sister, with the slightest of smiles.

‘Not with the glass, but by the intuition of genius,’ he retorted, coolly. ’What’s more, I can tell you the name of her commanding officer, Miss Nails. Which his initials are Francis Holford King.’

‘King!’ said his mother with but little interest. ‘Oh yes; I remember.’

‘And he’s coming to pay you a visit; that’s what’s the matter,’ continued the youth, still with the glass raised. ’Nails, you’d better hide that novel, and pretend you’ve been sewing. Beauty [this was an alternative name for the second sister], are you at the proper angle? Baby, smooth out your pinafore.’

‘Thomas, I insist on your treating your sisters with more respect!’ his mother said, angrily.

‘Well, I should almost like to be that fellow,’ continued Thomas, with perfect good-humour. ’Fancy: at five-and-twenty, commanding a ten-gun brig! He has brains, that chap; not like the others that come fooling around here. Why, old Stratherne told me all about him. They made him a Lieutenant when he was just of age.’

‘With your abilities, Tom,’ said his eldest sister, ’I suppose you’ll be commanding one of her Majesty’s ships, too, when you’re five-and-twenty.’

He was not at all crushed by the sarcasm.

‘My abilities,’ he said, still looking through the glass, ’are, I know, remarkable; but I think, on the whole, a rich widow will be more in my line of country.’

By this time all the girls had come to the window to watch the busy scene without the small sailing-boats and rowing-boats passing and repassing under the bows and stern of the brig, their occupants staring at the guns in the open ports or listening to the fiddling on the forecastle, where the men were dancing. But the interest of the Beresfords was concentrated rather on the gig that waited below, at the foot of the accommodation-ladder, with five blue-jackets in her. They saw an officer descend and step into the stern of the gig; then she was shoved off, and simultaneously the oars struck the water. In a very few minutes the bow of the boat was run up on the beach, the gangboard put out, and then the officer stepped ashore.

‘Oh, my! ain’t we resplendent?’ remarked the brother of the girls, apparently to himself. ’But it will be mortally awkward, young sir, if your ship should get aground, with the tide ebbing. Lawks-a-mussy! a court-martial. Even your first-class certificates, and Sir George Stratherne, and all the Lords put together, couldn’t get you out of that. And, then, the ignominy of it! Question: What on earth made you take the Fly-by-Night in to Brighton? Answer: Please, sir ax yer pardon, sir! I only wanted to spoon one o’ them doosid pretty Beresford girls.’

‘Thomas, leave the room!’ said his mother, in a violent rage.

Thomas could not help it; he had to go. But he said as he passed by her,

’Take care, mother; you are involving yourself in something serious. Her Majesty’s brig Fly-by-Night will be aground in about two twinkles!’

A few minutes later Lady Beresford was handed a card, inscribed ‘Lieutenant Francis Holford King, R.N.;’ and shortly thereafter the owner of the card presented himself in the drawing-room. Now, there can be no doubt that her Majesty’s uniform, especially when women-folk are the spectators, lends a certain dignity to the human figure; but, even in ordinary dress, this new-comer would have seemed to most a manly-looking, well-built young fellow, who had some decision in his face, and a very straightforward way of looking at people. He was of middle height, slight and square-shouldered; his forehead square; his hair black, likewise the short moustache twisted at the ends; while his eyes were of that singularly dark and luminous blue that one never sees, oddly enough, except in the eyes of sailors. However, there was nothing of the robustious, shiver-my-timbers, conventional sailor about him; his manner was somewhat reserved; he had a touch of gravity beyond his years; perhaps he had acquired it through being put at an early age in command of so many men; but it never forsook him not even in the ward-room, among his brother officers.

He seemed shy, also. When he had shaken hands with Lady Beresford and her daughters, and sat down, there was a distinct flush on the sun-brown face, and he proceeded to say, hastily,

’I I heard you had come down here at the end of the season, Lady Beresford Admiral Stratherne told me and I had a telegram to send off; so I thought I might take the chance of finding you not gone abroad yet.’

‘I am not going abroad this year,’ Lady Beresford said, wearily. ’Really my nerves cannot stand the perpetual fatigue and worry of the railway stations and hotels. But the girls are going by themselves. It is becoming quite common now. They don’t want even to have a maid with them; and really I am ashamed of the attention I require ’

‘Nan is going with us too,’ said Miss Beresford, staring into the fireplace, where there was no fire.

‘Oh! indeed,’ said the grave young lieutenant.

’She has never been abroad before. Won’t her eyes grow big! She has a great capacity for wonder and admiration; she will do all our reverence for us at the proper shrines.’

‘You have seen Sir George recently, then?’ said Lady Beresford.

‘At Portsmouth last week. They were all down from the Admiralty.’

‘What a dear old gentleman he is!’ she said.

’He is the finest sailor and the best-hearted gentleman in her Majesty’s service and that’s not saying a small thing,’ was the answer, prompt and straight.

‘You are a great pet of his,’ said Miss Beresford, ‘are you not?’

’He has been a very good friend to me. But you needn’t imagine it is because of that I respect him that I more than respect him I love him.’

There was a touch of earnestness in his voice and in the simplicity of the phrase, that made Miss Beresford regard him for a second with almost wondering eyes. She had never seen, for her part, anything about Sir George Stratherne to be enthusiastic about.

However, she had to continue the conversation unaided, for her mother was too languid. Beauty had got into an effective position, and was content to be silent, while the Baby was useless. So she said with a smile,

’I hope Sir George won’t have to find fault with you for bringing your ship into these shallow waters. Tom my brother Tom, you know is very anxious about it. I think he would like to give you his advice.’

‘I should be glad to have it,’ said Lieutenant King, with befitting gravity, ’but I do not think we are in any great danger. And how is your brother?’

’Oh, very well; I mean very ill. Worse than ever. I wish you could take him with you for a cruise or two.’

‘As they used to take a cask of raw Madeira,’ said he, laughing heartily, ’to fine down? Well, you’re right about one thing; there’s some good stuff in the lad. He might fine down to something good. But he is not in proper guidance.’

‘He is in no guidance at all,’ sighed his mother.

‘Is he going abroad with you?’

‘Not he,’ said Miss Beresford. ’He wouldn’t be bothered with us girls. He will see us as far as Newhaven, perhaps, and make brutal jokes all the way about the Channel.’

‘You are going soon, then?’ said he. Somehow there was a kind of constraint about this young lieutenant’s manner. He seemed to be thinking of something or some one else. His remarks and questions were of the most conventional sort.

‘On the 1st of September I think we shall be ready to start.’

‘And are you going far?’ he said, in the same preoccupied way.

’To Lucerne, first, I imagine; and then over the Splugen, when it is cool enough to go into Italy.’

‘Oh, indeed!’ said he. And then he added, after a pause, ‘Oh, indeed!’

Then he rose.

‘I see my man has got back,’ he said. ’I am sorry, Lady Beresford, I cannot ask you to bring your daughters to look over the ship; we must be off directly. Some other time, perhaps. It would give me very great pleasure, indeed. I hope, Miss Beresford, you will have a pleasant journey. I have been thinking of going abroad myself this autumn if I can get sufficient leave. Will you remember me to your brother Tom?’

He bade them good-bye, and left. They were silent until they saw him cross over the King’s Road. Then the business of criticism began.

‘He doesn’t talk like a sailor at all,’ said the Baby, with a pout. ‘He talks just like anybody.’

‘At all events he is very good-looking,’ said Beauty, warmly. ’He has the loveliest eyes I ever saw in a man. And his hands did you notice his gloves?’

‘A sailor shouldn’t wear gloves,’ said the Baby, who had not seen Lieutenant King before, but had heard of him, and was disappointed that he did not correspond to the nautical heroes she had read of.

‘I think gold lace is far better on blue than on scarlet,’ said Beauty. ‘I think blue and gold looks better than anything in a ball-room.’

‘He didn’t tell us a single wonderful story,’ said the disappointed Baby.

But Mary Beresford’s comment was more odd still. She glanced at her mother, and laughed. ‘Mother, he didn’t even once mention Nan’s name.’