wait for
no one. I have got all your trunks stowed away into the boat, and the
lads are waiting. If you miss your passage the third time, you may give
it up as a bad job."

In a few minutes Flora was seated in the boat, uncheered by any parting
blessing but the cold farewell, and for ever, of old Captain Kitson,
who could scarcely conceal the joy he felt at their departure. The
morning was wet and misty, and altogether comfortless, and Flora was
glad when the bustle of getting on board the steamer was over, and they
were safe upon her deck.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE STEAMBOAT.

In spite of the early hour, and the disagreeable weather, a number of
persons, glad to escape from the close confinement of the cabins, were
pacing the deck of the steamer. Others were leaning over the bulwarks,
regarding the aspect of the country they were rapidly passing; while
some were talking in small groups, in a loud declamatory tone, evidently
more intent on attracting the attention of the bystanders than of
edifying their own immediate listeners. Though bright eyes might look
heavy, and fair faces languid and sleepy, vanity was wide awake, and
never more active than in the midst of a crowd, where all are strangers
to each other. It affords such a glorious opportunity for display for
pretenders to rank and importance to show off their affected airs of
wealth and consequence; and the world can lay bare its rotten heart,
without much fear of detection, or dread of unpleasant results.

Flora sat down upon a bench beside her husband, and her eye ranged from
group to group of those strange faces, with a mechanical, uninterested
gaze. Here a pretty insipid-looking girl sauntered the deck with a book
in her hand, from which she never read; and another, more vivacious, and
equally intent on attracting her share of public notice, raved to an
elderly gentleman, on whose arm she was leaning, of the beauty and
magnificence of the ocean.

The young and good-looking of either sex were flirting. The more wily
and experienced coquetting after a graver fashion; while the middle-aged
were gossiping to some congenial spirit on the supposed merits or
demerits of their neighbours.

Not a few prostrate forms might be seen reclining upon shawls and
cloaks, supported by pillows, whose languid, pale faces, and disarranged
tresses, showed that the demon of the waters had been at work, and
remorselessly had stricken them down.

Standing near the seat