ropical sun, would scream with her over
the agonies of a dying fawn, and dip the beaks of their callow young in
blood; the other, nested in some gentle dell, the green turf beneath
watered by a brook, rippling its cadences to his sweet, though
monotonous, melody--would peel for his companion the husk from the
ripening corn, and shadow his brood from the noonday heat. Yet the love
of both is perfect, according to its kind.

The time had been when, as Hugh Dalton walked on the deck of his bright
Fire-fly, and counted the stars, guided the helm, or watched the clouds
flitting past the disk of the silver moon, he thought that, if his
pardon were granted, and he could bestow his ship upon one in the beauty
and prime of manhood, who would take Barbara to his bosom, and call her
by the hallowed name of "wife," he could lay his head upon his pillow,
and die in peace, the grandsire of a race of sons, who would carry the
name of Dalton honourably over the waves of many lands. He had never, in
all his adventures, met with a youth who had gained so much upon his
affections as the lad Springall. He knew him to be brave and honest, of
a frank and generous nature, well calculated to win the heart of any
maiden; and he had arranged for the youth's temporary residence at Cecil
Place, at a time when he knew the baronet could not refuse aught that he
demanded, with a view to forward a long-cherished design.

"Barbara will see, and, I am sure, love him," quoth Dalton to himself:
"how can it be otherwise? Matters may change ere long, and, if they
do----. His family is of an old Kentish stock, well known for their
loyalty, which, in truth, made the boy quit the canting ship, the
Providence, when he met with a fitting opportunity. She cannot choose
but love him; and even if, at the end of ten or twenty years, he should
turn out a gentleman, he'll never scorn her then; for, faith, he could
not; she is too like her mother to be slighted of mortal man!" And so he
dreamed, and fancied, as scores of fathers have done before and since,
that all things were going on rightly. When Springall held occasional
communication with him, he never saw him tread the deck without mentally
exclaiming, "What a brave skipper that boy will make! He has the very
gait of a commander: the step free, yet careless; the voice clear as a
warning bell; the eye keen, and as strong as an eagle's." Then he would
look upon his ship, and, apostrophising her as a parent would a