n for some time, for the
young girl seemed to be stoutly opposing what the Breton sailor
said.

"How old is my uncle Cornbutte?" said Marie.

"Something about sixty years," replied Penellan.

"Well, is he not going to brave danger to find his son?"

"Our captain is still a sturdy man," returned the sailor. "He has
a body of oak and muscles as hard as a spare spar. So I am not
afraid to have him go to sea again!'"

"My good Penellan," said Marie, "one is strong when one loves!
Besides, I have full confidence in the aid of Heaven. You
understand me, and will help me."

"No!" said Penellan. "It is impossible, Marie. Who knows whither
we shall drift, or what we must suffer? How many vigorous men
have I seen lose their lives in these seas!"

"Penellan," returned the young girl, "if you refuse me, I shall
believe that you do not love me any longer."

Andre Vasling understood the young girl's resolution. He
reflected a moment, and his course was determined on.

"Jean Cornbutte," said he, advancing towards the old sailor, who
now entered, "I will go with you. The cause of my hesitation has
disappeared, and you may count upon my devotion."

"I have never doubted you, Andre Vasling," replied Jean
Cornbutte, grasping him by the hand. "Marie, my child!" he added,
calling in a loud voice.

Marie and Penellan made their appearance.

"We shall set sail to-morrow at daybreak, with the outgoing
tide," said Jean. "My poor Marie, this is the last evening that
we shall pass together.

"Uncle!" cried Marie, throwing herself into his arms.

"Marie, by the help of God, I will bring your lover back to you!"

"Yes, we will find Louis," added Andre Vasling.

"You are going with us, then?" asked Penellan quickly.

"Yes, Penellan, Andre Vasling is to be my first mate," answered
Jean.

"Oh, oh!" ejaculated the Breton, in a singular tone.

"And his advice will be useful to us, for he is able and
enterprising.

"And yourself, captain," said Andre. "You will set us all a good
example, for you have still as much vigour as experience."

"Well, my friends, good-bye till to-morrow. Go on board and make
the final arrangements. Good-bye, Andre; good-bye, Penellan."

The mate and the sailor went out together, and Jean and Marie
remained alone. Many bitter tears were shed during that sad
evening. Jean Cornbutte, seeing Marie so wretched, resolved to
spare her the pain of separation by leaving the house on the
morrow without her