et above half an
hour before, and the sky still suffused with a good deal of brightness,
the air being extremely soft and mild. He may remember with the utmost
nicety how they were leaning over the rail of the vessel looking out
towards the westward, she fallen mightily quiet as though occupied with
very serious thoughts.

Of a sudden she began, without any preface whatever, to speak to
Barnaby about herself and her affairs, in a most confidential manner,
such as she had never used to him before. She told him that she and her
grandfather were going to New York that they might take passage thence
to Boston, in Massachusetts, where they were to meet her cousin Captain
Malyoe, who was stationed in garrison at that place. Continuing, she
said that Captain Malyoe was the next heir to the Devonshire estate,
and that she and he were to be married in the fall.

You may conceive into what a confusion of distress such a confession as
this, delivered so suddenly, must have cast poor Barnaby. He could
answer her not a single word, but stood staring in another direction
than hers, endeavoring to compose himself into some equanimity of
spirit. For indeed it was a sudden, terrible blow, and his breath came
as hot and dry as ashes in his throat. Meanwhile the young lady went on
to say, though in a mightily constrained voice, that she had liked him
from the very first moment she had seen him, and had been very happy
for these days she had passed in his society, and that she would always
think of him as a dear friend who had been very kind to her, who had so
little pleasure in her life.

At last Barnaby made shift to say, though in a hoarse and croaking
voice, that Captain Malyoe must be a very happy man, and that if he
were in Captain Malyoe's place he would be the happiest man in the
world. Thereupon, having so found his voice, he went on to tell her,
though in a prodigious confusion and perturbation of spirit, that he
too loved her, and that what she had told him struck him to the heart,
and made him the most miserable, unhappy wretch in the whole world.

She exhibited no anger at what he said, nor did she turn to look at
him, but only replied, in a low voice, that he should not talk so, for
that it could only be a pain to them both to speak of such things, and
that whether she would or no, she must do everything her grandfather
bade her, he being indeed a terrible man.

To this poor Barnaby could only repeat that he loved her wi