I want to fight my way back to my duty and
myself, without stopping to think twice about it.
Darkness is nothing to me—I'm used to darkness.
I have got the high road to walk on,
and I can't lose my way. Let me go, Lizzie!
The only sweetheart I have any business with,
at my age, is my ship. Let me get back to
her!"

His sister still kept her hold of his arm, and
still pleaded with him to stay till the morning.
He listened to her with perfect patience and
kindness—but she never shook his determination for
an instant.

"What am I to say to William?" she pleaded.
"What will he think, when he comes back, and
finds you gone?"

"Tell him I have taken the advice he gave us,
in his sermon last Sunday. I have turned my
back on the world, the flesh, and the devil."

"How can .you talk so, Robert! And the boys
too—you promised not to go without bidding the
boys good-by."

"That's true. I made my little nephews a
promise; and I'll keep it." He kicked off his
shoes, as he spoke, on the mat outside the door.
"Light me up-stairs, Lizzie; I'll bid the two
boys good-by without waking them."

She saw the uselessness of resisting him any
longer; and, taking the candle, went before him
up-stairs.

The boys—both young children—were sleeping
together in the same bed. The youngest was
his uncle's favourite, and was called by his
uncle's name. He lay peacefully asleep, with a
rough little toy ship hugged fast in his arms.
Kirke's eyes softened as he stole on tiptoe to the
child's side, and kissed him with the gentleness
of a woman. "Poor little man!" said the sailor,
tenderly. "He is as fond of his ship as I was at
his age. I'll cut him out a better one when I
come back. Will you give me my nephew one of
these days, Lizzie, and will you let me make a
sailor of him?"

"Oh, Robert, if you were only married and
happy, as I am!"

"The time has gone by, my dear. I must
make the best of it as I am, with my little
nephew there to help me."

He left the room. His sister's tears fell fast
as she followed him into the parlour. "There
is something so forlorn and dreadful in your
leaving us like this," she said. "Shall I go to
Aldborough to-morrow, Robert, and try if I can
get acquainted with her, for your sake?"

"No!" he replied. "Let her be. If it's
ordered that I am to see that girl again, I shall
see her. Leave it to the future, and you leave it
right." He put on his shoes, and took up his
hat and stick. "I won't over-walk myself," he
said, cheerfully. "If the coach doesn't overtake
me on the road, I can wait for it where I
stop to breakfast. Dry your eyes, my dear; and
give me a kiss."

She was like her brother, in features and
complexion; and she had a touch of her brother's
spirit—she dashed away the tears, and took her
leave of him bravely.

"I shall be back in a year's time," said Kirke,
falling into his old sailor-like way, at the door.
"I'll bring you a China shawl, Lizzie, and a chest
of tea for your store-room. Don't let the boys
forget me; and don't think I'm doing wrong to
leave you in this way. I know I'm doing right.
God bless you and keep you, my dear—and your
husband, and your children! Good-by!"

He stooped, and kissed her. She ran to the
door to look after him. A puff of air
extinguished the candle—and the black night shut
him out from her in an instant.

Three days afterwards, the first-class merchantman,
DELIVERANCE—Kirke, commander—sailed
from London for the China Sea.

CHAPTER III.

THE threatening of storm and change passed
away with the night. When morning rose over
Aldborough, the sun was master in the blue
heaven, and the waves were rippling gaily under
the summer breeze.

At an hour when no other visitors to the
watering-place were yet astir, the indefatigable
Wragge appeared at the door of North Shingles
Villa, and directed his steps northward, with a
neatly-bound copy of Joyce's "Scientific
Dialogues" in his hand. Arriving at the waste ground
beyond the houses, he descended to the beach,
and opened his book. The interview of the past
night had sharpened his perception of the
difficulties to be encountered in the coming enterprise.
He was now doubly determined to try the
characteristic experiment at which he had hinted
in his letter to Magdalen: and to concentrate on
himself—in the character of a remarkably well-
informed man—the entire interest and attention
of the formidable Mrs. Lecount.

Having taken his dose of ready-made science
(to use his own expression) the first thing in
the morning, on an empty stomach, Captain
Wragge joined his small family circle at breakfast-
time, inflated with information for the day.
He observed that Magdalen's face showed plain
signs of a sleepless night. She made no
complaint: her manner was composed, and her
temper perfectly under control. Mrs. Wragge
—refreshed by some thirteen consecutive hours
of uninterrupted repose—was in excellent spirits,
and up at heel (for a wonder) with both shoes.
She brought with her into the room several large
sheets of tissue paper, cut crisply into mysterious
and many-varying forms, which immediately
provoked from her husband the short and sharp
question, "What have you got there?"

"Patterns, captain," said Mrs. Wragge, in
timidly conciliating tones. "I went shopping
in London, and bought an Oriental Cashmere
Robe. It cost a deal of money; and I'm going
to try and save, by making it myself. I've
got my patterns, and my dressmaking directions
written out as plain as print. I'll be