can count on me for a friend always," Neil said, with a sudden gush
of warmth, as he extended his hand, adding hurriedly: "And now I must
say good-by, as I have an engagement. _Au revoir_ and _bon voyage_."

"Good-by," Grey answered, a little coldly, and the carriages moved on,
greatly to the relief of Neil, who had been in a tremor of fear lest
Bessie should be inquired for and he be obliged to tell where she was.

During his interview with Grey his conscience and his pride had been
waging a fierce battle the latter bidding him say nothing of Bessie,
who possibly might not be seen during the voyage, as she had promised to
keep strictly out of the sight of the saloon passengers, and, unless
necessary, not to tell any one except her aunt that she had crossed as
steerage. Thus the disgrace might never be known. But his conscience
bade him tell Grey the truth, and ask him to find Bessie on shipboard,
and do what he could to lighten the dreariness of her situation. Why he
did not do this Neil could not tell, and when the opportunity was passed
he cursed himself for a miserable coward, and actually put his head from
the window to bid the cabman turn back and overtake the carriage they
had met.

"Ten chances to one if I find him now. I'll write and confess the whole
thing," he finally decided, and so went back to the hotel, where he
passed a miserable three hours, until it was time to dress for the
dinner at the house where his mother was visiting.

It was quite a large dinner-party, consisting mostly of matrons and
elderly men, so that Neil's presence was hailed with delight, and he was
the center of attraction for at least four young ladies, among whom
Blanche was conspicuous. But Neil had no heart for anything, and seemed
so silent and absent-minded that his mother whispered to him in an
aside:

"What ails you, Neil? Surely you are not fretting after that girl?"

She knew Bessie was to sail that afternoon, and that Neil was to see her
off, but she was not prepared for the white face which he turned to her,
or the bitter tones in which he said:

"Yes, I am fretting for that girl, as you call her. And I would give
half my life to be with her this minute. But she is gone. She is lost to
me forever, and I wish I were dead."

To this outburst Lady Jane made no reply, but, as she looked into her
son's face, there flashed upon her a doubt as to the result of her
opposition to Bessie, and the question as to whether it wou