It was almost dinner time. Elizabeth had been out sailing with Madam
Archdale, Colonel Pepperell, and Sir Temple, and Lady Dacre. They were
in the Colonel's boat; and Madam Pepperell, who had been detained, had
sent her young guest to represent her. But Edmonson had gone off with
his host to Colonel Archdale's, and Bulchester had mysteriously
disappeared soon afterward. Elizabeth suspected that he had gone to pay
a visit to Katie and had found her so fascinating that he could not tear
himself from her society, or that he had wandered off somewhere by
himself to dwell upon her perfections. "Poor simpleton!" she said to
herself in the revulsion from her fears of the night before. At all
events, the result was the same; there were only three at Seascape to
accept the Colonel's invitation to go sailing.

It was always a refreshment to Elizabeth to be with Sir Temple and Lady
Dacre; that morning it was even better than being alone; they were the
only ones purely spectators in the drama of struggle and suffering going
on under the courtesies that were its scenic accompaniments. When they
talked and jested it was out of happy hearts, at least so far as the
things about them were concerned, and for this reason the strain was
taken from her in their presence. She had only to be gay enough,
and there was no need of watching her words lest they should be
misconstrued. If she had been asked why anything that she said or did
was liable to be misconstrued, she could not have told. This was her
feeling, but she did not see her way; no flash of the electric storm
that the blackness foreboded had yet shown her where she stood; but the
elemental conditions affected her.

The boat on its return had landed Madam Archdale and her guests on the
pebbly beach at Seascape, not far from the house. They had said farewell