o overtake her, and to pass
far ahead to the world she was sailing for, the world of her
long-cherished desires.

I shall briefly relate a part of what she afterward recounted to me.
The voyage from New York to Bristol lasted six weeks. She suffered
much from her cramped quarters, from the cold weather, from
seasickness; but she bore up against her present afflictions, in the
hope of future compensations. She put away from her, with the facility
of an ambitious beauty, alike her regrets for the past, and her
misgivings of the future.

Not to risk any increase of those misgivings, she refrained from
questioning Ned as to his resources, nor did she require of him a
minute exposition of his plans. She preferred to leave all to him and
to circumstance, considering that, once launched upon the sea of
London, and perfectly unrestricted as to her proceedings, she could
make shift to keep afloat. She had an earnest of the power of her
beauty, in its effect upon the ship's captain, who, in the absence of
passengers, was the only person aboard whose admiration was worth
playing for. She had the place of honour at his table, and in her
presence he was nothing but eyes and dumb confusion, while the
extraordinary measures he took for her comfort proclaimed him her
willing slave.

She listened without objection or comment when Ned, in confidential
moods, forced his purposes upon her attention.

"We'll make 'em stare, my dear," said he. "We'll make 'em open their
eyes a bit; just you wait! We'll find lodgings somewhere in the thick
of the town, and I'll take you to the theatres, and to walk in St.
James Park, and to the public assemblies, and wherever you're sure to
be seen. I wish 'twere Summer; then there'd be Vauxhall and Ranelagh,
and all that. 'Tis a bad time of year in London now; but we'll do our
best. There'll be young sparks of quality enough, to ask each other
who that goddess is, and that Venus, and that angel, and all that kind
of thing; and they'll be mad to make your acquaintance. They'll take
note of me, and when they see me at the coffee-houses and faro-tables,
they'll fall over one another in the rush to know me, and to be my
friends. And I'll pick out the best, and honour 'em with invitations
to call at our lodgings, and there'll be my pretty sister to mix a
punch for us, or pour out tea for us; and once we let 'em see we're as
good quality as any of 'em, and won't stand any damn' nonsense,' why,
you leave it t