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"That is the end—there is no name." Did he believe her mad, or did he conceive that she was merely feigning a part? "No," she said in low tense tones, "your son don't need me. I'm nuthin' to him. Sometimes I think—I think he cares—'cause I'm longin' fer it, I guess. But somehow he seems to be lookin' beyond me to someone else.".

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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. "First off we plugged every hole under that barn but two, an' at each of these two we set a hoop-net. Then we turned ol' Lucifer, the ferret, loose under the barn. Holy Smoke! afore we knowed it there was high jinks goin' on tinder there. Maurice had hold of one hoop an' me the other. It took ma weasel an' her boys an' girls 'bout half a minute to make up their minds that ol' Lucifer wasn't payin' 'em a friendly visit. When the big scramble was over, I had a bagful of weasels an' so did Maurice. We let Lucifer prowl round a little longer to make sure we had all of 'em, then I called him out. I made Scraff give us one of his hens to feed the ferret on. Then Maurice an' me started off. Scarcely had the words been received by the ears on deck, when he shouted: "Two more sail, just astarn of the two first." "Oh yes, he has the makings of a fine fellow in him," exclaimed the Admiral, with his face clouding somewhat. "It is not for me to say so, but there was a time when I was proud of my son. Such was his zeal and gallantry in the Service that I sometimes flattered myself the day would come when, like Lord Nelson, he would have a gazette to himself. His opportunities in the Navy are passed. Even if he could be reinstated I doubt if he would return, so lively, unnaturally lively, is the resentment and aversion which the sentence of the court-martial excited in him. It is a pity—it is a pity!".