gathered at the mainmast. They made a
gay bit of colour,--Dr. Courtenay in a green coat laced with fine
Mechlin, Fitzhugh in claret and silk stockings of a Quaker gray, and the
other gentlemen as smartly drest. The Dulany girls and the Fotheringay
girls, and I know not how many others, were there to see their friend off
for home.

In the midst of them was Dorothy, in a crimson silk capuchin, for we had
had one of our changes of weather. It was she who spied me as I was
drawing down the ladder again.

"It is Richard!" I heard her cry. "He has come at last."

I gripped the rope tightly, sprang to the deck, and faced her as she came
out of the group, her lips parted, and the red of her cheeks vying with
the hood she wore. I took her hand silently.

"I had given you over, Richard," she said, her eyes looking reproachfully
into mine. "Another ten minutes, and I should not have seen you."

Indeed, the topsails were already off the caps, the captain on deck, and
the men gathered at the capstan.

"Have you not enough to wish you good-by, Dolly?" I asked.

"There must be a score of them," said my lady, making a face. "But I
wish to talk to you."

Mr. Marmaduke, however, had no notion of allowing a gathering in his
daughter's honour to be broken up. It had been wickedly said of him,
when the news of his coming departure got around, that he feared Dorothy
would fall in love with some provincial beau before he could get her
within reach of a title. When he observed me talking to her, he hurried
away from the friends come to see his wife (he had none himself), and
seizing me by the arm implored me to take good care of my dear
grandfather, and to write them occasionally of the state of his health,
and likewise how I fared.

"I think Dorothy will miss you more than any of them, Richard," said he.
"Will you not, my dear?"

But she was gone. I, too, left him without ceremony, to speak to Mrs.
Manners, who was standing apart, looking shoreward. She started when I
spoke, and I saw that tears were in her eyes.

"Are you coming back soon, Mrs. Manners?" I asked.

"Oh, Richard! I don't know," she answered, with a little choke in her
voice. "I hope it will be no longer than a year, for we are leaving all
we hold dear for a very doubtful pleasure."

She bade me write to them, as Mr. Marmaduke had, only she was sincere.
Then the mate came, with his hand to his cap, respectfully to inform
visitors that the anchor was up and down