“There is no storm now, and there are no duties to be done on board the ship,” she said, with the faint, sad smile which it wrung Crayford’s heart to see.  “You are Lucy’s husband, and you have an interest in me for Lucy’s sake.  Don’t shrink on that account from giving me pain:  I can bear pain.  Friend and brother! will you believe that I have courage enough to hear the worst?  Will you promise not to deceive me about Frank?”

The gentle resignation in her voice, the sad pleading in her look, shook Crayford’s self-possession at the outset.  He answered her in the worst possible manner; he answered evasively.

“My dear Clara,” he said, “what have I done that you should suspect me of deceiving you?”

She looked him searchingly in the face, then glanced with renewed distrust at Mrs. Crayford.  There was a moment of silence.  Before any of the three could speak again, they were interrupted by the appearance of one of Crayford’s brother officers, followed by two sailors carrying a hamper between them.  Crayford instantly dropped Clara’s arm, and seized the welcome opportunity of speaking of other things.

“Any instructions from the ship, Steventon?” he asked, approaching the officer.

“Verbal instructions only,” Steventon replied.  “The ship will sail with the flood-tide.  We shall fire a gun to collect the people, and send another boat ashore.  In the meantime here are some refreshments for the passengers.  The ship is in a state of confusion; the ladies will eat their luncheon more comfortably here.”

Hearing this, Mrs. Crayford took her opportunity of silencing Clara next.

“Come, my dear,” she said.  “Let us lay the cloth before the gentlemen come in.”

Clara was too seriously bent on attaining the object which she had in view to be silenced in that way.  “I will help you directly,” she answered—­then crossed the room and addressed herself to the officer, whose name was Steventon.

“Can you spare me a few minutes?” she asked.  “I have something to say to you.”

“I am entirely at your service, Miss Burnham.”

Answering in those words, Steventon dismissed the two sailors.  Mrs. Crayford looked anxiously at her husband.  Crayford whispered to her, “Don’t be alarmed about Steventon.  I have cautioned him; his discretion is to be depended on.”

Clara beckoned to Crayford to return to her.

“I will not keep you long,” she said.  “I will promise not to distress Mr. Steventon.  Young as I am, you shall both find that I am capable of self-control.  I won’t ask you to go back to the story of your past sufferings; I only want to be sure that I am right about one thing—­I mean about what happened at the time when the exploring party was dispatched in search of help.  As I understand it, you cast lots among yourselves who was to go with the party, and who was to remain behind.  Frank cast the lot to go.”  She paused, shuddering.  “And Richard Wardour,” she went on, “cast the lot to remain behind.  On your honor, as officers and gentlemen, is this the truth?”