an bright and well, and looking out
for me, for I had written to say I hoped to come. We went up to see
Captain Leslie and the ladies, who had sent word that they wished us to
pay them a visit. They were as kind as ever. The hours went by a great
deal too fast.

A sailor's wife has a hard trial to bear, to have her husband at home
for two or three days, and then away for as many years or more; however,
I hoped to be at home again in less time than that, and so I cheered up
Susan, and promised for her sake to take the best care of myself I
could. She had not given up her notion of taking in a female lodger.
We were standing in the porch of the cottage on the last day, when we
saw a young lady in black, leading a little boy, coming along the road.
The little chap had a sailor's hat and jacket on, though he did not seem
much more than three years old.

"She is some officer's widow," I remarked to Susan as we watched her.

"She seems almost too young to be the mother of that child; she is his
sister, more likely," answered Susan.

The young lady had stopped, and was looking about her; presently she
came on to us.

"Can you tell me if I am likely to find a lodging hereabouts for a few
days?" she asked in a sweet voice; "I have left my luggage at the inn in
the village, but I do not wish to remain there, and I feel very tired
with walking about."

"Will you like to walk in, miss, and rest yourself?" said Susan, "for
you do look tired and ill too."

The young lady's cheek was very pale.

"I shall indeed be thankful if you will let me do so," she answered, and
coming in she sank down in a chair.

Susan got tea ready; it seemed to revive her a little; the child, I
observed, did not call her mother; and as I saw no wedding ring on her
finger, I began to think that Susan was right about her not being the
child's mother. Susan was evidently taken with the young lady, and,
calling me out, she said that she would ask her to stop, as she did not
seem fit to walk back to the village. I offered to go to the inn and
fetch her things, but she had a bag in her hand which she said contained
sufficient for the night, and she would send for them the next morning.
I soon afterwards had to go off to the ship, so I saw no more of the
young lady, who had gone to her room with the little boy.

CHAPTER THREE.

What a change it was from the quiet cottage, with my sweet Susan by my
side, to the lower-deck of the big ship, crow