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"Mornin', sir," greeted Cobin Keeler.,

Billy set the pails down on the block outside the milk-house and rubbed his cheek against Croaker, who had just alighted on his shoulder. "Are you goin' to show me where you found the gold-pieces, Croaker?" he asked, stroking the ruffled plumage smooth.,

Then, as the first note of a night-bird came soft and fluted from a distant willow copse, Billy took his hand and drew him up along the corduroy road stretching through the shadows.,

"Maurice," remonstrated Mrs. Wilson, smothering the sympathy in her heart in the clutch of duty, "it's wrong fer you to take advantage of your pore ma's deefness this way. I wouldn't send Willium back with you, anyways. What devilment you wouldn't think of he certainly would. No, I'll ask your ma to let you come, but it's Anson I'll have bring you home an' not Willium." And with a frown and a shake of her head she followed her neighbor into the house.

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"Miss Acton—Lucy—my Lucy: for my Lucy you have ever been in my heart since the day when I asked you to be my wife, and you know—but you must believe—that my adoration of you then has not waned by a single ray of its brilliance—nay, the flame is greater and purer and more glowing than it was in that hour in which you refused my hand, not because you could not love me, nor because you believed the half of what had been told you about me, but because I was in too great a hurry. I had not given you time to find me out and love me as I believe, as I am sure you now do. Oh, my Lucy, this act of seeming treason against you will be forgiven. Your heart will acknowledge[Pg 250] that violent as might seem the step I have taken, by no other could we have been brought together, and all the artifices and all the falsehoods I have been guilty of were, you will come to believe, the inspiration of such a love as few men ever felt for the women of their worship.",

Sir William Lawrence was very grave, his looks were stern, almost fierce, as he entered the boat. Captain Acton was cool and thoughtful. His brow was knitted; his lips were set. His demeanour was that of a self-possessed man confronted by a condition of things rendered complex by features extraneous to the main trouble or difficulty, yet confounding it by their existence. Lucy watched the scene from the after-part of the Aurora's quarterdeck. She stood alone in that part of the ship leaning upon the rail, and once or twice her gaze followed the boat that was bearing her father and the Admiral to the Minorca; but it was chiefly directed at the[Pg 434] barque whose length she explored for a sight of the tall figure whom she had immediately recognised as Mr Lawrence, whilst Sir William was surveying his son through his glass. She mused upon the amazing passage of her life that had filled the interval between the time of her going on board yonder ship, believing her father to be lying dangerously injured in her, down to the hour of her transference to the Whitby brig. Never was her pensive beauty more fascinating than now, whilst her soft dark eyes brooded upon the ship that had been her floating prison. What would Mr Lawrence say or think when he came to understand that her madness was feigned, a dramatic stratagem to obtain liberty and restoration? How would he—but how could he—face his father whom he had degraded, and her father whom he had robbed and wronged?,

Nelson, standing beside his lieutenant, who might have been Pasco (the officer who, on the 21st day of the following October, made[Pg 400] the Nelson signal that is as dear as his heart's blood to every Englishman), acknowledged the salutations of the schooner's quarterdeck and the mobs in her rigging by bows and a smile, and a lifting of his hand and certain flapping motions of the stump of his right arm, an action into which he was frequently moved when irritated or pleased.,

"Reserve what you have to say for my private ear!" exclaimed Captain Acton, with a severe look and in a stern voice. "Where is your Captain?"