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"A brilliant piece of work, sir," cried Nelson.,

Pennsylvania Scroggie had been one of the first to offer his congratulations. "Young man," he said to Stanhope, "I'm some rough on the outside but I reckon I'm all right inside. You've got your sight back and you've got, in this fine piece of land my old uncle left you, what promises to be a real oil field. Hinter and I are going to develop it for you, if you've no objections. And you've got a whole lot more than that," glancing at Erie, who stood near. And Stanhope, sensing the sterling worth of the man, shook hands gladly.,

"Yep, she does jest that. She don't seem to know any better. Birds an' animals are queer that way. Why, even a weasel'll nurse a baby rabbit along with her own kittens if it's hungry.",

Mr Lawrence, with his back turned upon this cabin door, heard Lucy's voice, but not what she said. If Paul answered her his voice was so sunk by the awfulness of her presence, by all that she meant being at sea, by all that she had typified to this forlorn vagrant when on shore, that his accents were inaudible in the cabin.

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Sail was at once shortened aboard the schooner and the helm put down, which held the canvas shuddering in smart ripplings of shadow, whilst on board the frigate the lower stun-sail was taken in, the other stun-sails boom-ended, the main topsail yard backed to the wind and the ship's way arrested, all with the alacrity and quietude which are to be found only in a British man-of-war in perfection.,

"Fer land sakes! you don't say so, Maurice. Is she very bad?" The tones were sympathetic now. Maurice nodded, and glanced longingly at the fresh batch of brown cookies.,

"I don't know, sir. I'll ascertain, sir," and the man disappeared.,

This young lady was Lucy, the only child of Captain Acton, one of the most charming, indeed one of the most beautiful girls of her time. The scene of garden and flower-beds quaintly shaped, and the backing of the noble, mellow, gleaming building with its pediment and symbolic carvings, was enchantingly in keeping with the figure and appearance of the girl, who by the magic of her looks and attire instantly transformed it into a picture charged with the colours of youth and health and a sweet and delicate spirit of life. Her apparel was prettily of the time: a straw hat, the brim projecting a little over the forehead and seated somewhat on one side, a plain light blue gown and long yellow silk gloves. The gown was without waist and bound under the bosom by a girdle. Her hair this day was dressed in tresses which hung around the face—not curls, but tender shadings of hair, as though the effect had been contrived by the fingers of the wind; but some curls reposed on her neck. Her eyes were unusually large, of a dark brown and full of liquid light. The eyelids were somewhat heavy, and looked the heavier because of their rich furniture of eyelash. The eyelashes indeed suggested at first sight that she doctored her eyes, as do actresses[Pg 20] and others; but a brief inspection satisfied the beholder that all was Nature transparent, artless, and lovely. A conspicuous charm in Lucy Acton was her colour: her cheeks always wore a natural bloom or glow; this, as in the case of her eyes, might have been suspected as the effect of art, but she blushed so readily, even sometimes on any effort of speech, the damask of her blood so wrought in her cheek on any impulse of mood or humour, that it was quickly seen the mantling glow was a charm of Nature's own gift. No girl could have been more natural, and few more beautiful than Lucy Acton. Had she lived half a century earlier she would have been one of the toasts of the nation.