her. Florence never
left her high rooms but to steal downstairs to wait for him when it was
his time to come, or, sheltered by his proud, encircling arm, to bear
him company to the door again, and sometimes peep into the street. In
the twilight they were always together. Oh blessed time! Oh wandering
heart at rest! Oh deep, exhaustless, mighty well of love, in which so
much was sunk!

The cruel mark was on her bosom yet. It rose against her father with the
breath she drew, it lay between her and her lover when he pressed her to
his heart. But she forgot it. In the beating of that heart for her, and
in the beating of her own for him, all harsher music was unheard, all
stern unloving hearts forgotten. Fragile and delicate she was, but with
a might of love within her that could, and did, create a world to fly
to, and to rest in, out of his one image.

How often did the great house, and the old days, come before her in the
twilight time, when she was sheltered by the arm, so proud, so fond,
and, creeping closer to him, shrunk within it at the recollection! How
often, from remembering the night when she went down to that room and
met the never-to-be forgotten look, did she raise her eyes to those that
watched her with such loving earnestness, and weep with happiness in
such a refuge! The more she clung to it, the more the dear dead child
was in her thoughts: but as if the last time she had seen her father,
had been when he was sleeping and she kissed his face, she always left
him so, and never, in her fancy, passed that hour.

'Walter, dear,' said Florence, one evening, when it was almost dark.'Do
you know what I have been thinking to-day?'

'Thinking how the time is flying on, and how soon we shall be upon the
sea, sweet Florence?'

'I don't mean that, Walter, though I think of that too. I have been
thinking what a charge I am to you.

'A precious, sacred charge, dear heart! Why, I think that sometimes.'

'You are laughing, Walter. I know that's much more in your thoughts than
mine. But I mean a cost.

'A cost, my own?'

'In money, dear. All these preparations that Susan and I are so busy
with--I have been able to purchase very little for myself. You were poor
before. But how much poorer I shall make you, Walter!'

'And how much richer, Florence!'

Florence laughed, and shook her head.

'Besides,' said Walter, 'long ago--before I went to sea--I had a little
purse presented to me, dearest, which had money in i