He had avoided Marcella rather pointedly
lately, but he came and talked quite affably for a while, didactically
contrasting Melbourne with Naples and Colombo.
The _Oriana_ was to sail at eight o'clock; Marcella would not let
herself be anxious; she had resolved that she must trust Louis now, and,
knowing that he had scarcely any money and no friends, she could not
imagine he would get into mischief. But as the last passengers came
aboard and the first warning bell rang out, she began to grow cold with
fear. The rain was pouring now in a sheet of water; she stood on deck in
the green white glare of the arc lamps, which only lighted a
circumscribed pool of radiance, and made the surrounding darkness
blacker.
The second bell went; she heard the engine-room telegraph ring and the
ship began to vibrate to the throb of the engines. She was feeling
choked with fear: a thousand apprehensions went through her mind: he had
been run over and was dead: he had lost his way: he was ill in hospital,
crying out for her.
"Has your friend not come aboard?" asked the schoolmaster at her elbow.
She shook her head. It was impossible to speak.
"I suppose he has mistaken the time of sailing," said the schoolmaster
soothingly.
"Do you think I ought to go ashore to look for him?" she cried,
articulate at last in her misery, and ready to take advice.
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