g again, he left the office.

"What is that gentleman's name?" Mrs. Carr asked, when he was gone.

"Here it is, madam, on the list. 'Arthur Preston Heigham, passenger to
Madeira.'"

"Arthur Preston Heigham!" Mrs. Carr said to herself, as she made her
way down to her carriage in Fenchurch Street. "Arthur is pretty, and
Preston is pretty, but I don't much like Heigham. At any rate, there
is no doubt about his being a gentleman. I wonder what he is going to
Madeira for? He has an interesting face. I think I am glad we are
going to be fellow-passengers."

The two days that remained to him in town, Arthur spent in making his
preparations for departure; getting money, buying, after the manner of
young Englishmen starting on a voyage to foreign parts, a large and
fearfully sharp hunting-knife, as though Madeira were the home of wild
beasts, and laying in a stock of various other articles of a useless
description, such as impenetrable sun-helmets and leather coats.

The boat was to sail at noon on Friday, and on the Thursday evening he
left Paddington by the mail that reaches Dartmouth about midnight. On
the pier, he and one or two other fellow-passengers found a boat
waiting to take them to the great vessel, that, painted a dull grey,
lay still and solemn in the harbour as they were rowed up to her, very
different from the active, living thing that she was destined to
become within the next twenty-four hours. The tide ebbing past her
iron sides, the fresh, strong smell of the sea, the tall masts
pointing skywards like gigantic fingers, the chime of the bell upon
the bridge, the sleepy steward, and the stuffy cabin, were all a
pleasant variation from the every-day monotony of existence, and
contributed towards the conclusion that life was still partially worth
living, even when it could not be lived with Angela. Indeed, so much
are we the creatures of circumstance, and so liable to be influenced
by surroundings, that Arthur, who, a few hours before, had been
plunged into the depths of depression, turned into his narrow berth,
after a tremendous struggle with the sheets--which stewards arrange on
a principle incomprehensible to landlubbers, and probably only
partially understood by themselves--with considerable satisfaction and
a pleasurable sense of excitement.

The next morning, or rather the earlier part of it, he devoted, when
he was not thinking about Angela, to arranging his goods and chattels
in his small domain, t