deserves it—a diamond fit for a Jew. The
wealth of Araby spread out at her feet, gold,
incense, and myrrh, Golconda, and the rest
of it, not one bit too much. She deserves
it all, every halfpenny."

"I know," said Mr. West, interrupting these
paternal raptures. "And I must bind you,
most solemnly, not to breathe a word to her. I
make this a point, and a solemn condition."

"Will you have an oath? " said Mr. Dacres,
with alacrity; "any one that's binding on my
conscience; kiss the book, sir. Hush! by the
powers, here she is; not a word. It will only
fetter and constrain her, the dear child! Well,
Lulu, pet, how is poor mamma? Poor Mrs. D.,
sir, has a touch of the browns, sir; this blackguard
weather always brings it to her. Heaven
forgive me! I haven't seen her since morning."
And, with great delicacy, Mr. Dacres withdrew.

Lucy started when she saw the brother whose
sister had visited her in the morning. Mr.
West's bright face, however, and cordial manner
relieved her.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself last night, and
always will when I am away."

Again she started.

"Going away? Why, what's the reason?
Oh, you are not angry——"

"Angry," he said, smiling. "No, I must go
on family business. I shall not be long, so you
will have a short holiday. And, now, will you
promise me one thing—two things? First, to
write to me very often."

"Indeed I shall," said she; "every day, if
you wish."

"No. Only when you have something to tell
me—how you are getting on; how you are amusing
yourself. And that brings me to my second
request, that you do amuse yourself; see people
you like; go to parties—what are called by
courtesy, parties—as much as you can; just as
if, in short——"

"I know what you mean, perfectly," said
Lucy, with her little air of confidence. "I
remember our agreement. Surely," she said,
with some colour, "if I were to meet some
poor soul who had suffered a great deal, and
tried to soothe and comfort, to distract their
thoughts, to listen to them, you would not
think——"

"Just what I would wish you to do, and
what I would expect from the gentle nature
of Lucy Dacres."

"If I spoke kindly to him——"

"Him?" repeated Mr. West, a little
absently.

"Yes; to some poor wanderer over the face of
the earth, like the Wandering Jew, you would
not say I was a flirt?"

"No, my dear child," said he, smiling. "But
where are these Jews and helpless creatures to
come from? I dare say I shall see more Jews
than you. Ah! I know! Tell me, has my
sister been with you?"

Lucy looked, confused, down on the ground.
What sagacity and penetration he had! She
admired him now. He rose up in some agitation.

"I knew this; I suspected this. This is
what I shall leave behind. But don't mind
her; she means well, poor soul. It is all her
love for me, which I do not deserve. She is
indiscreet, soured if you like, and takes what
she thinks to be the best way to advance my
interest. I am sorry for this, deeply. She
thinks the old-fashioned style to be the right
way—a girl to be moping in a corner. Don't
mind her. Promise me."

"You are so noble and so generous! " said
Lucy, enthusiastically. "I promise you everything."

He looked at her with great interest, and
took her hand.

"I shall be back very soon. You know who
is your friend—your true friend. And if there
is any little difficulty—We shall have a
breezy passage to-day; but that is what I like.
They should have made me a sailor. Good-bye,
dearest. Remember, write pretty often when
you are in the humour, and, above all things,
amuse yourself."

Lucy's face quite fell as she thought of
losing her friend. "It is so sudden," she
said, "and so unkind of you!"

He went down the stairs, a little troubled.
"What man but myself would do such a
thing? But I am right. Yes. She shall be
perfectly free. She shall come to me, not I to
her." The ugly thought, which he disliked, was
still before him. "Old enough to be her
father."

His foot was on the last step, when a very
handsome man—Spanish-looking—well dressed,
distinguished, passed him with a bow, and went
up-stairs. Mr. West looked after him, wondering.
Then he looked up at the window. Lulu
was waving her hand to him energetically,
and his countenance cleared again in a moment.
But the waving was interrupted, and the bright
figure of "Lulu" had darted away from the
window.

Alas! all that night, in the dull-lit cabin,
when the steamer was plunging, rocking, creaking,
heaving, groaning, roaring, that interrupted
salutation would come back on him, and make him
uneasy with many a pang.

     CHAPTER XV. STORM.

FOR two days the gale continued at the little
town, neither increasing nor subsiding. In the
morning, as in the evening, the air was of the cold
bluish-slate colour, and in the streets, in the shops
where the owners sat, uncomfortable, with their
doors fast closed, and doing no business, was
heard the roar and tumbling of the breakers
as at the back of a wall. No one went
abroad, except a few enthusiasts, who would
not give up their day's walk, and who,
having trudged to the top of the great cliffs,
after being blown about, struggling with
their hats, staggering to keep their feet, came
down with news that the sight from thence was
"awfully grand," the sea far out in angry
mist, and breaking and roaring in on the shore
like a furious demon. No ships were seen.