uckham, to communicate that the
Esperanza awaited Captain Beauchamp, manned and provisioned, off the
pier. Now, he would not go without Dr. Shrapnel, nor the doctor without
Jenny; and Jenny could not hold back, seeing that the wish of her
heart was for Nevil to be at sea, untroubled by political questions and
prowling Radical deputies. So her consent was the seal of the voyage.
What she would not consent to, was the proposal to have her finger
ringed previous to the voyage, altogether in the manner of a sailor's
bride. She seemed to stipulate for a term of courtship. Nevil frankly
told the doctor that he was not equal to it; anything that was kind
he was quite ready to say; and anything that was pretty: but nothing
particularly kind and pretty occurred to him: he was exactly like a
juvenile correspondent facing a blank sheet of letter paper:--he really
did not know what to say, further than the uncomplicated exposition of
his case, that he wanted a wife and had found the very woman. How, then,
fathom Jenny's mood for delaying? Dr. Shrapnel's exhortations were so
worded as to induce her to comport herself like a Scriptural woman,
humbly wakeful to the surpassing splendour of the high fortune which had
befallen her in being so selected, and obedient at a sign. But she was,
it appeared that she was, a maid of scaly vision, not perceptive of the
blessedness of her lot. She could have been very little perceptive, for
she did not understand his casual allusion to Beauchamp's readiness to
overcome 'a natural repugnance,' for the purpose of making her his wife.

Up to the last moment, before Cecilia Halkett left the deck of the
Esperanza to step on the pier, Jenny remained in vague but excited
expectation of something intervening to bring Cecilia and Beauchamp
together. It was not a hope; it was with pure suspense that she awaited
the issue. Cecilia was pale. Beauchamp shook Mr. Tuckham by the hand,
and said: 'I shall not hear the bells, but send me word of it, will
you?' and he wished them both all happiness.

The sails of the schooner filled. On a fair frosty day, with a light
wind ruffling from the North-west, she swept away, out of sight of
Bevisham, and the island, into the Channel, to within view of the coast
of France. England once below the water-line, alone with Beauchamp and
Dr. Shrapnel, Jenny Denham knew her fate.

As soon as that grew distinctly visible in shape and colour, she ceased
to be reluctant. All about h