her, you good and faithful sister."

"It was the same thing, lady; we were to live together, and to support
each other."

"But what was your thought, my dear girl, in bringing her here?"

"I told you, lady, that in her own native land, among her own kinsfolk,
she might be comforted, and might resume her girlhood's thoughts and
habits, and learn to forget the strange, dark passages of her short
married life, passed in a foreign country."

"But, my dear girl, did you not know, had you never heard that her uncle
disowned her for marrying against his will?"

"Something of that I certainly heard from Edith, lady, when I first
proposed to her to come home. But she was very weak, and her thoughts
very rambling, poor thing--she could not stick to a point long, and I
overruled and guided her--I could not believe but that her friends would
take her poor widowed heart to their homes again. But if it should be
otherwise, still--"

"Well?--still?"

"Why, I cannot regret having brought her to her native soil--for, if we
find no friends in America, we have left none in England--a place
besides full of the most harrowing recollections, from which this place
is happily free. America also offers a wider field for labor than
England does, and if her friends behave badly, why I will work for her,
and--for her child if it should live."

"Dear Marian, you must not think by what I said just now, that I am not
a friend of Edith. I am, indeed. I love her almost as if she were my own
daughter. I incurred my husband's anger by remaining with her after her
marriage until she sailed. I will not fail her now, be sure. Personally,
I will do my utmost for her. I will also try to influence her uncle in
her favor. And now, my dear, it is getting very late, and there is a
long ride, and a dreadful road before me. The commodore is already
anxious for me, I know, and if I keep him waiting much longer, he will
be in no mood to be persuaded by me. So I must go. To-morrow, my dear, a
better home shall be found for you and Edith. That I promise upon my own
responsibility. And, now, my dear, excellent girl, good-by. I will see
you again in the morning."

And Mrs. Waugh took leave.

"No," thundered Commodore Waugh, thrusting his head forward and bringing
his stick down heavily upon the floor. "No, I say! I will not be
bothered with her or her troubles. Don't talk to me! I care nothing
about them! What should her trials be to me? The precious affair h