ave as many pounds as I liked of the best tobacco ever cured in Cuba.
And so he left me to see that the mate had signed all his lighter bills,
shouting to the captain not to forget his cockets at Gravesend. Dolly
and I stood silent while the men hove short, singing a jolly song to the
step. With a friendly wave the round figure of Mr. Orchardson
disappeared over the side, and I knew that the time had come to say
farewell. I fumbled in my waistcoat for the repeater I had bought that
morning over against Temple Bar, in Fleet Street, and I thrust it into
John Paul's hand as he came up.

"Take this in remembrance of what you have suffered so unselfishly for my
sake, Captain Paul," I said, my voice breaking. "And whatever befalls
you, do not forget that Carvel Hall is your home as well as mine."

He seemed as greatly affected as was I. Tears forced themselves to his
eyes as he held the watch, which he opened absently to read the simple
inscription I had put there.

"Oh, Dickie lad!" he cried, "I'll be missing ye sair three hours hence,
and thinking of ye for months to come in the night watches. But
something tells me I'll see ye again."

And he took me in his arms, embracing me with such fervour that there was
no doubting the sincerity of his feelings.

"Miss Dorothy," said he, when he was calmer, "I give ye Richard for a
leal and a true heart. Few men are born with the gift of keeping the
affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest. But have no
fear of Richard Carvel."

Dorothy stood a little apart, watching us, her eyes that faraway blue of
the deepening skies at twilight.

"Indeed, I have no fear of him, captain," she said gently. Then, with a
quick movement, impulsive and womanly, she unpinned a little gold brooch
at her throat, and gave it to him, saying: "In token of my gratitude for
bringing him back to us."

John Paul raised it to his lips.

"I shall treasure it, Miss Manners, as a memento of the greatest joy of
my life. And that has been," gracefully taking her hand and mine, "the
bringing you two together again."

Dorothy grew scarlet as she curtseyed. As for me, I could speak never a
word. He stepped over the side to hand her into the wherry, and embraced
me once again. And as we rowed away he waved his hat in a last good-by
from the taffrail. Then the Betsy floated down the Thames.

CHAPTER XXXI

"UPSTAIRS INTO THE WORLD"

It will be difficult, my dears, without bulging this his