The second day out Carmichael's first opportunity came. He discovered
Herbeck and his daughter leaning against the rail. He watched them
uneasily, wondering how he might approach without startling her. At last
he keyed up his courage.
"Good morning, your Highness," he stammered, and inwardly cursed his
stupidity.
At the sound of his voice she turned, and there was no mistaking the
gladness in her eyes.
"Mr. Carmichael?"
"Yes. I was surprised to learn that you were taking the same boat as
myself."
How clumsy he was! she thought. For she had known his every move since
the train drew out of Dreiberg.
"Father, here is our friend, Herr Carmichael."
"Carmichael?" said Herbeck slowly.. "Ah, yes. Good morning."
And Carmichael instantly comprehended that his name recalled nothing to
the other man's remembrance.
"You are returning to America?" she asked.
"For good, perhaps. To tell the truth, I ran away, deserted my post,
though technically I have already resigned. But America has been calling
me for some days. You have never been to sea before?"
"No; it is all marvelous and strange to me."
"Let us walk, my child," said Herbeck.
"You will excuse me, Mr. Carmichael?" she said. Never more the rides in
the fair mornings.
Pages:
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294