thought all her dreams had come true, and that there was nothing
left but to the Checkers and carry off that old cabinet as a wedding
present."

"Natalie," he said, presently, "how is it that you always manage to do
the right thing at the right time? When Mrs. Alleyne took your mother
and you in to the Checkers, and old Mrs. Diggles led you into her parlor
and dusted the table with her apron, what made you think of asking her
for a piece of cake and a cup of tea?"

"My dearest, I saw the cake in the bar!" she exclaimed.

"I believe the old woman was ready to faint with delight when you
praised her currant-wine, and asked how she made it. You have a
wonderful way of getting round people--whether by fair means or
otherwise I don't know. Do you think if it had been anybody else but you
who went to Von Zoesch in Genoa, he would have let Calabressa come with
us to America?"

"Poor old Calabressa!" she said, laughing; "he is very brave now about
the sea; but he was terribly frightened that bad night we had after
leaving Queenstown."

Here some one appeared in the dusky recess at the top of the
companion-stairs, and stepped out into the open.

"Are you people never coming below at all?" he said. "I have to inform
you, Miss Natalie, with your mamma's compliments, that she can't get on
with her English verbs because of that fat girl playing Strauss; and
that she is going to her cabin, and wants to know when you are coming."

"Now, at once," said Natalie, getting up out of her chair. "But wait a
moment, Evelyn: I cannot go without bidding good-night to Calabressa.
Where is Calabressa?"

"Calabressa! Oh, in the smoking-room, betting like mad, and going in for
all the mock-auctions. I expect some of them will sit up all night to
get their first sight of the land. The pilot expects that will be
shortly after daybreak."

"You will be in time for that, Natalie, won't you?" Brand asked.

"Oh yes. Good-night, Evelyn!" and she gave him her hand.

Brand went with her down the companion-stairs, carrying her rugs and
shawls. In the corridor she turned to bid him good-night also.

"Dearest," she said, in a low voice, "do you know what I have been
trying all day--to get you to say one word, the smallest word, of
regret?"

"But if I have no regret whatever, how can I express any?"

"Sure?"

He laughed, and kissed her.

"Good-night, my darling!"

"Good-night; God bless you!"

Then he made his way along the gloomy corrido