him to the main cabin. I thought I would tell him at once what
had happened; but a choking sensation came into my throat, and I could
not utter a word.

"Is father not getting better," he asked, after a time. "Why did he not
speak to me just now?"

"I am afraid he is not getting better," I replied; "but come on deck."
The idea struck me that I would get one of the young ladies to speak to
him, as they would tell him of his loss with more gentleness than any
one else. When we reached the deck he saw Leo, who ran up to him, and
took him aft to show him a large shark he had been watching swimming
about close astern. I seized the opportunity of speaking to Miss
Rowley, and told her what had happened.

"Oh, no, no; I am sure I cannot speak to the child. I should not know
what to say," she answered. "Just tell him yourself. I do not suppose
boys are likely to be much affected by such an occurrence."

I could not help giving her a look expressive of the surprise and pain I
felt. Could that elegant young lady be so heartless and indifferent to
the sorrow of others? My cousin Kate was sitting a little further off,
out of hearing of her brother and Natty.

"The captain is dead," I said, in a low voice; "but his poor boy does
not know it."

"Is the kind old man really gone?" she exclaimed, looking up into my
face, and a tear starting into her eye. "Oh, how sad for poor Natty!
But he must be told; and yet he will feel it dreadfully."

"Will you tell him then, Kate?" I asked. "It is necessary to do so at
once, and yet it is hard to wound his feelings."

"Yes," she said; "I will try, even though it would greatly pain me. Yes
yes!" she continued. "Come here, Natty, and sit down by me.--You need
not be afraid, Andrew, I will speak gently to him."

I was sure she would. Her sweet countenance showed me how much she felt
for the boy. I did not hear what she said, but she took his hand, and
looked kindly into his face. He saw the tears in her eyes as she went
on talking, and then, at length, he seemed to comprehend the truth, and
began to sob violently. I saw her take both his hands, and cast on him
a look of sympathy, of more avail just then than any words she could
have uttered. Directly after he started up, as if to run to the cabin
where his dead father lay; but she held him back by gentle force; and
then he sat quiet, and sobbed and sobbed as if his young heart would
break; and she again began to speak so