have, that I may not see you again, has forced it from me. In a few
days I leave you--be gentle with me for my involuntary offence--pity me
while you condemn, and I will return no more."

Miss Trevannion did not reply; she breathed quick, and stood motionless.
I gathered courage; I looked in her face, there was no displeasure--I
approached her, she was half fainting, and put her hand upon my shoulder
to steady herself. I put my arm round her waist, and led her to the
sofa, and knelt at her feet, watching every change in her beautiful
countenance. I took her hand and pressed it to my lips; by degrees I
became more bold, and got by her side, and pressed her to my heart. She
burst into tears, and wept with her head on my bosom.

"Do not be angry with me," said I, after a time.

"Do I appear as if I was angry with you?" replied she, raising her head.

"Oh, no; but I cannot believe my happiness to be real. It must be a
dream."

"What is life but a dream?" replied she mournfully. "Oh, the coast of
Africa! How I dread it!"

And so I confess did I from that moment; I had a presentiment, as I had
told her, that something would go wrong, and I could not get over the
feeling.

I shall no longer dwell upon what took place on that delightful evening,
Madam; suffice to say, that Miss Trevannion and I were mutually pledged,
and, after an exchange of thought and feeling, we parted, and when we
did part I pressed those dear lips to mine. I went home reeling with
excitement, and hastened to bed, that I might have unrestrained freedom
of thought. I enacted the scene of the evening over and over again;
recalled each motion, each look, every word which had passed, and,
defying fever and presentiment of evil, imagined also our happy meeting
to part no more. It was long before I could compose myself to sleep,
and when I did, I need not say who it was that occupied my dreams. I
called as soon as I could venture so to do on the following day, and had
a long interview with my dear Amy. Before I went up to her father, I
tried to soothe her anxiety upon my approaching voyage, and to persuade
her that there was little or no danger to be apprehended in so short a
stay. Willingly would I have given it up, but Mr Trevannion had so set
his mind upon it, and I had, by my consent, rendered it so impossible
for him to find a substitute in time, that I could not do so, and I
persuaded Miss Trevannion that I was right in acting to my pr