ade.
The schooner seemed rather to drift than to sail. Whenever a slight
breeze would arise, it was sure to be adverse, and was not of long
duration. Then a calm would follow, and the schooner would lie idle
upon the bosom of the deep.

During these days Mimi steadily regained her strength; and the bloom
and the sprightliness of youth came back, and the roses began to
return to her cheeks, and her wan face resumed its plumpness, and her
eyes shone with the light of joyousness. Within the narrow confines
of a small schooner, Claude was thrown in her way more frequently
than could have been the case under other circumstances; and the
situation in which they were placed towards one another connected
them more closely, and formed a bond which made an easy way to
friendship, and even intimacy. As a matter of course, Claude found
her society pleasanter by far than that of any one else on board;
while, on the other hand, Mimi did not seem at all averse to his
companionship. She seemed desirous to know all about him.

"But, monsieur," she said once, in the course of a conversation, "it
seems strange to me that you have lived so long among the English
here in America."

"It is strange," said Claude; "and, to tell the truth, I don't
altogether understand myself how it has happened."

"Ah, you don't understand yourself how it has happened," repeated
Mimi, in a tone of voice that was evidently intended to elicit
further confidences.

"No," said Claude, who was not at all unwilling to receive her as his
confidante. "You see I was taken away from France when I was an
infant."

"When you were an infant!" said Mimi. "How very, very sad!" and
saying this, she turned her eyes, with a look full of deepest
commiseration, upon him. "And so, of course, you cannot remember
anything at all about France."

Claude shook his head.

"No, nothing at all," said he. "But I'm on my way there now; and I
hope to see it before long. It's the most beautiful country in all
the world--isn't it?'

"Beautiful!" exclaimed Mimi, throwing up her eyes; "there are no
words to describe it. It is heaven! Alas! how can I ever bear to live
here in this wild and savage wilderness of America!"

"You did not wish to leave France then?" said Claude, who felt
touched by this display of feeling.

"I!" exclaimed Mimi; "I wish to leave France! Alas, monsieur! it was
the very saddest day of all my life. But dear papa had to go, and I
do not know why it was. He