The boat to convey them on shore was being lowered, and they were
preparing to move forward. Just then the vessel was boarded by a
stranger.

'Is that one of the creatures of your Customs? I did imagine we were
safe from them,' exclaimed the Countess.

The diplomatist laughingly requested her to save herself anxiety on that
score, while under his wing. But she had drawn attention to the
intruder, who was seen addressing one of the midshipmen. He was a man in
a long brown coat and loose white neckcloth, spectacles on nose, which he
wore considerably below the bridge and peered over, as if their main use
were to sight his eye; a beaver hat, with broadish brim, on his head.
A man of no station, it was evident to the ladies at once, and they would
have taken no further notice of him had he not been seen stepping toward
them in the rear of the young midshipman.

The latter came to Evan, and said: 'A fellow of the name of Goren wants
you. Says there's something the matter at home.'

Evan advanced, and bowed stiffly.

Mr. Goren held out his hand. 'You don't remember me, young man? I cut
out your first suit for you when you were breeched, though! Yes-ah!
Your poor father wouldn't put his hand to it. Goren!'

Embarrassed, and not quite alive to the chapter of facts this name should
have opened to him, Evan bowed again.