He used every
effort to console her--gave her an account of his own early life, and
bade her trust in the kind Providence who in the hour of need had
given _him_ a friend. He assured her also that he, at least, would not
forsake her, but that he would endeavor to place her in some way of
gaining her own livelihood till she could write to and hear from her
friends in Italy; and begged that she would look upon him as a
brother. She heard him with glistening eyes, and clasping his hand in
hers, with child-like earnestness expressed her thanks for his
kindness.

During the rest of that voyage Captain Sydney spent every leisure
moment by the side of his beautiful charge. Returning health imparted
a bloom to her cheek, and a lustre to her soft, dark eyes, and as
Arthur gazed upon her, he often thought that earth had never owned a
fairer flower. It was not long ere he became fully conscious that she
daily grew dearer to him, and great was his joy as he marked the flush
that invariably rose to her pure forehead when he approached. And when
at length he poured his tale of love into the ear of the sweet Leonor,
the reply that he sought was given with an impassioned fervor that
sent a thrill of rapture to his soul.

They were united the day that they landed at New York, and renting a
small but pretty cottage in the outskirts of the city, Captain Sydney
installed his Leonor as the mistress of that pleasant domain. Here,
amidst flowers and birds, and enlivened by the music of two loving
hearts, the time glided tranquilly away till the hour of separation
arrived--and, for the first time, Sydney quitted the land with regret,
and embarked once more upon the deep blue ocean.

Eight years after his marriage, Captain Sydney was destined to weep
over the cold corpse of his lovely wife. She had never enjoyed
uninterrupted health since her residence beneath the variable clime of
her adoption, and at last she fell a victim to consumption. Vainly did
the anxious husband consult the most celebrated physicians--the
disease was incurable, and ere the blossoms of spring again burst
forth, Leonor slumbered beneath the sod. Wild, indeed, was the grief
of the bereaved one at her loss--but he recovered the first effects of
his sorrow, and leaving his only child, Harry, a brave boy just six
years of age, under the guardianship of a friend who had loved the
departed mother, Sydney resumed his former vocation.

Years again fled. Harry Sydney attain