'
'Ah! if you had seen his portrait at Cherbury, when he was only
twenty!' said Venetia. 'That was a golden phantom, or rather he looked
like Hyperion. What are you staring at so, George?'
'I do not like this wind,' muttered Captain Cadurcis. 'There it goes.'
'You cannot see the wind, George?'
'Yes, I can, Venetia, and I do not like it at all. Do you see that
black spot flitting like a shade over the sea? It is like the
reflection of a cloud on the water; but there is no cloud. Well, that
is the wind, Venetia, and a very wicked wind too.'
'How strange! Is that indeed the wind?'
'We had better return home,' said Captain Cadurcis I wish they had not
gone to Lavenza.'
'But there is no danger?' said Venetia.
'Danger? No! no danger, but they may get a wet jacket.'
They walked on; but Captain Cadurcis was rather distrait: his eye was
always watching the wind; at last he said, 'I tell you, Venetia, we
must walk quickly; for, by Jove, we are going to have a white squall.'
They hurried their pace, Venetia mentioned her alarm again about the
boat; but her companion reassured her; yet his manner was not so
confident as his words.
A white mist began to curl above the horizon, the blueness of the day
seemed suddenly to fade, and its colour became grey; there was a swell
on the waters that hitherto had been quite glassy, and they were
covered with a scurfy foam.
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