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Mrs. Wilson, arms folded on the white table-cloth, was gazing out of the window now. Perhaps she saw a poor old horse, belly deep in luscious grass, making up for the fasts of hard and stern days, mercifully behind it forever now and enjoying life to the full—the new life which Billy had helped to purchase.,

Wilson, striving to keep his face grave, nodded. "That's how it's been, I guess, Mary. He kin no more help pickin' up every snake and animal he comes across then he kin help breathin'. But he don't mean any harm, Billy don't.",

"I can make no other answer than this, ma'am," said Captain Weaver. "Suppose she was down on the wharves between half-past seven and eight. Most of the labourers would have been away breakfasting. The few that hung about might not have taken any notice of her, or if one or two did, then they are people we didn't come across to question. Most of the men on board the ships in the Harbour would be in their foc'sles breakfasting and smoking and the like, and those that were on deck, and few enough at that hour, might be thinking of other things than people who were passing by. I don't see how else Miss Lucy Acton's not being seen or noticed can be accounted for.",

The girl's eyes grew wider and wider with wonderment. "Isn't it strange?" she half whispered, "and beautiful?"

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One bright morning in April in that memorable year 1805, Captain Charles Acton, R.N. (retired), stood on his lawn in front of the house watching a gardener who was at work at a flower-bed. He was a slightly-built but tall, very gentleman-like man, one of the last in a crowd to be picked out as a seafarer. He was pale, his nose aquiline, lips thin, and the expression of the mouth firm. He was dressed in a frill shirt, loose cravat of white cambric, red-striped waistcoat, long green coat with a high collar and small cuffs, tight breeches to the ankle buttoned to the middle of the thigh, and top-boots; a rather low-crowned, broad-brimmed hat sat somewhat cocked on his head. His hair was long, without powder, and tied a little way down the back in a sort of tail.,

"Naw, you know what they'd do. They'd let the cat out o' the bag sure. They're all right fer light work sech as swipin' watermelon an' helpin' make a seine-haul but they ain't no good at treasure an' will huntin'.",

"I know," she continued, still preserving her accent of scorn and viewing him with eyes that did not seem to be her's, so did she contrive to diminish the breadth of the beauty of the lids, so did she manage to look passions and feelings which the memory of her oldest friend could never have recalled as vitalising her brooding half-hooded gaze: "I know that this man came ashore and lived[Pg 284] upon his father who was poor, and drank and gambled until his name provoked nothing but a shrug, and that one day in a fit of pity, for which doubtless he has asked God's pardon, Captain Acton, who loves Admiral Lawrence, gave his poor creature of a son command of a ship. This I know," she said, letting her eyes fall suddenly from his face down upon her fingers, which she seemed to count as she proceeded. "But I had always supposed that there was some spirit of goodness left in Mr Walter Lawrence. I believed that though he might gamble and drink and live in idleness upon the bounty of his father, he with all his imperfections was a man incapable of outraging the feelings of a young girl, incapable of betraying the generous confidence of one who stood to him as a warm-hearted friend. Can you be that Mr Lawrence?" she said, peering at him in such a peculiar fashion, with such archness of contempt that a spectator, short-sighted and at a little distance, would have supposed she was looking at the handsome fellow through an eye-glass. "Oh, I am going mad to suppose it—mad to think it possible!",

Sighing dolefully she arose, placed her treasured gold piece in the clock for safe keeping, and tying on her bonnet, left the house. She walked hurriedly down the path, thinking that perhaps she might be late for the opening hymn. As she was about to open the gate, a slender, sprightly old gentleman, dressed in long frock coat, stepped out from the trees bordering the road, and gravely lifting his shiny hat, bowed low, and said: "Your pardon, ma'am, I'm axin; but if ye'll permit me."