alone with Mary. This was
easily enough effected, by a present of a quarter of a dollar. The boat
having two lugg sails, and the wind being light and steady, at south-west,
there was nothing to conflict with Roswell Gardiner's wishes.

The young sailor left the wharf at Sag Harbour about ten minutes after the
deacon had preceded him, on his way to the schooner. As the wind was so
light and so fair, he soon had his sheets in, and the boat gliding along
at an easy rate, which permitted him to bestow nearly all his attention on
his charming companion. Roswell Gardiner had sought this occasion, that he
might once more open his heart to Mary, and urge his suit for the last
time, previously to so long an absence. This he did in a manly frank way,
that was far from being unpleasant to his gentle listener, whose
inclinations, for a few minutes, blinded her to the resolutions already
made on principle. So urgent was her suitor, indeed, that she should
solemnly plight her faith to him, ere he sailed, that a soft illusion came
over the mind of one as affectionate as Mary, and she was half-inclined to
believe her previous determination was unjustifiable and obdurate. But the
head of one of her high principles, and clear views of duty, could not
long be deceived by her heart, and she regained the self-command which had
hitherto sustained her in all her former trials, in connection with this
subject.

"Perhaps it would have been better, Roswell," she said, "had I taken leave
of you at the Harbour, and not incurred the risk of the pain that I
foresee I shall both give and bear, in our present discourse. I have
concealed nothing from you; possibly I have been more sincere than
prudence would sanction. You know the only obstacle there is to our union;
but that appears to increase in strength, the more I ask you to reflect on
it--to try to remove it."

"What would you have me do, Mary! Surely, not to play the hypocrite, and
profess to believe that which I certainly do not, and which, after all my
inquiries, I _cannot_ believe."

"I am sorry it is so, on every account," returned Mary, in a low and
saddened tone. "Sorry, that one of so frank, ingenuous a mind, should find
it impossible to accept the creed of his fathers, and sorry that it must
leave so impassable a chasm between us, for ever."

"No, Mary; that can never be! Nothing but death can separate us for so
long a time! While we meet, we shall at least be friends; and friends lo