David, who was by far the
handsomest of the two, was her especial favourite. I never saw the young
sailor leave the house without kissing his mother, or return from a
voyage without bringing her a present. I used to tell him, 'There was
only one person he loved better than me, and that was his mother;' and
he would laugh, and say,--'Not better, Betsy,--but 'tis a different
love altogether.'

"I must confess I was rather jealous of his mother. I did not wish him
to love her less, but to love me more. Whenever he left us for sea, he
used to tell me the very last thing--'Show your love to me, dear Betsy,
by being kind to my dear old mother. When you are my wife, I will repay
it with interest.'

"During his absence, I always went every day to see Mrs. Arthur, and to
render her any little service in my power. She was very fond of me,
always calling me 'her little daughter,--her own dear Betsy.' Her
conversation was always about her sons, and David in particular, which
rendered these visits very agreeable to me, who loved David better than
anything else under heaven. He was never out of my thoughts, I
worshipped him so completely.

"It was the latter end of February that the Arthurs made their last
voyage together. David was to sail as captain, in a fine merchant-ship,
the first of May; and everything had been arranged for our marriage,
which was to take place the tenth of April; and I was to make a bridal
tour to London with my husband in the new ship. I was wild with
anticipation and delight, and would let my work drop from my hands
twenty times a-day, while building castles for the future. No other
girl's husband would be able to rival my husband; no home could be as
happy as my home; no bride so well beloved as me.

"It was the twentieth of March, 18--; I recollect it as well as if it
were only yesterday. The day was bright, clear, and cold, with high
winds and a very stormy sea. The _Nancy_ had been expected to make her
port all that week, and Mrs. Arthur was very uneasy at her delay. She
was never happy or contented when her sons were at sea, but in a
constant fidget of anxiety and fear. She did not like both sailing in
the same vessel. 'It is too much,' she would say--'the safety of two
lives out of one family--to be trusted to one keel.' This morning she
was more fretful and nervous than usual.

"'What can these foolish boys be thinking of, Betsy, to delay their
voyage in this way? They will in all probability b