procedure; and then she too detected the sweet melancholy of the one
expression and the marble-like irony of the other. It may have been this
that caused her to start, though almost imperceptibly, and to colour.

"Our turn will come next," muttered John Effingham: "get the grimaces
ready."

His conjecture was right; for, hearing his voice without understanding the
words, the captain followed up his advantage to his own infinite
gratification.

"Gentlemen,--Mr. Effingham, Mr. John Effingham"--(every one soon came to
make this distinction in addressing the cousins)--"Miss Effingham,
Mademoiselle Viefville:--Mr. Sharp, Mr. Blunt,--ladies;--gentlemen, Mr.
Blunt, Mr. Sharp."

The dignified bow of Mr. Effingham, as well as the faint and distant smile
of Eve, would have repelled any undue familiarity in men of less tone than
either of the strangers, both of whom received the unexpected honour like
those who felt themselves to be intruders. As Mr. Sharp raised his hat to
Eve, however, he held it suspended a moment above his head, and then
dropping his arm to its full length, he bowed with profound respect,
though distantly. Mr. Blunt was less elaborate in his salute, but as
pointed as the circumstances at all required. Both gentlemen were a little
struck with the distant hauteur of John Effingham, whose bow, while it
fulfilled all the outward forms, was what Eve used laughingly to term
"imperial." The bustle of preparation, and the certainty that there would
be no want of opportunities to renew the intercourse, prevented more than
the general salutations, and the new-comers descended to their
state-rooms.