thers were present, thereby causing me some perplexity and
chagrin. And if we happened to find ourselves alone he appeared ill at
ease, and would look at me in a strange and shifty manner, as though he
had something on his mind. But for all that the time did not hang
heavily on my hands, nor was the voyage an uneventful one to me, as I
shall relate in a few words.

It came about naturally enough that Miss Hatherton and I spent the long
days together. In less than a fortnight we were calling each other by
our Christian names. Secluded in some nook of the deck, we would talk
for hours, or I would read aloud from one of the few volumes that the
skipper's cabin afforded. She told me much of her life in London. Her
father had been a gentleman of some means until speculation wrecked him,
and later she confided to me the whole of her sad story.

There was more than I had known before, as Captain Rudstone suggested.
It seems that prior to her father's death the only son of Lord Selkirk
fell in love with the girl. She did not return his affection, and,
indeed, she disliked the young man. But the old lord was either ignorant
of this fact or would not believe it. He had higher matrimonial views
for his son, and so, in order to get Miss Hatherton out of England, he
hatched the plot that resulted in the poor girl making her father a
sacred promise that she would go to the Canadas and marry Griffith
Hawke. She had no relatives to interfere, and a cruel disadvantage was
taken of her helplessness and poverty. She spoke of the matter only on
the one occasion, and it did not come up between us again. Nor had I the
heart to mention it, since she was clearly resigned to her future.

But I pitied the girl deeply, and I would have been more than human,
with the opportunities afforded, had I not fallen a victim to her charms
and loveliness. I did not perceive where I was drifting. I did not
realize my danger until it was too late. In short, I, who had hitherto
felt but contempt for all womankind, suddenly discovered that I was a
slave to the great passion. It was a sharp awakening, and it destroyed
my peace of mind. To me Flora Hatherton was a divinity, a goddess. It
gave me the keenest torture to think that she would soon be the wife of
old Griffith Hawke. I knew that she was as far out of my reach as the
stars above, and yet I felt that I should love her passionately all my
life--that the memory of her sweet face would shatter all the joys