Poor girl, what does she not suffer in such a situation!"
"What a beautiful hand she writes!" exclaimed Barnstable; "'tis as
clear, and as pretty, and as small, as her own delicate fingers. Griff,
what a log-book she would keep!"
"Cecilia Howard touch the coarse leaves of a log-book!" cried the other
in amazement; but perceiving Barnstable to be poring over the contents
of his mistress' letter, he smiled at their mutual folly, and continued
silent. After a short time spent in cool reflection, Griffith inquired
of his friend the nature and circumstances of his interview with
Katherine Plowden. Barnstable related it, briefly, as it occurred, in
the manner already known to the reader.
"Then," said Griffith, "Merry is the only one, besides ourselves, who
knows of this meeting, and he will be too chary of the reputation of his
kinswoman to mention it."
"Her reputation needs no shield, Mr. Griffith," cried her lover; "'tis
as spotless as the canvas above your head, and----"
"Peace, dear Richard; I entreat your pardon; my words may have conveyed
more than I intended; but it is important that our measures should be
secret, as well as prudently concerted."
"We must get them both off," returned Barnstable, forgetting his
displeasure the moment it was exhibited, "and that, too, before the old
man takes it into his wise head to leave the coast. Did you ever get a
sight of his instructions, or does he keep silent?"
"As the grave.
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