go was then received on board,
and, as soon as her hold was full, there came, to Philip's great
vexation, an order to receive on board 150 soldiers and other
passengers, many of whom were accompanied by their wives and families.
Philip worked hard, for the captain did nothing but praise the vessel,
and at last they had embarked everything, and the fleet was ready to
sail.

It was now time to part with Amine, who had remained at the hostelrie,
and to whom Philip had dedicated every spare moment that he could
obtain. The fleet was expected to sail in two days, and it was decided
that on the morrow they should part. Amine was cool and collected. She
felt convinced that she should see her husband again, and with that
feeling she embraced him as they separated on the beach, and he stepped
into the boat in which he was to be pulled on board.

"Yes," thought Amine, as she watched the form of her husband, as the
distance between them increased--"yes, I know that we shall meet again.
It is not this voyage which is to be fatal to you or me; but I have a
dark foreboding that the next, in which I shall join you, will separate
us for ever--in which way I know not--but it is destined. The priests
talk of free will. Is it free-will which takes him away from me? Would
he not rather remain on shore with me? Yes. But he is not permitted,
for he must fulfil his destiny. Free-will? Why, if it were not destiny
it were tyranny. I feel, and have felt, as if these priests are my
enemies; but why I know not: they are both good men, and the creed they
teach is good. Goodwill and charity love to all, forgiveness of
injuries, not judging others. All this is good; and yet my heart
whispers to me that--but the boat is alongside, and Philip is climbing
up the vessel. Farewell, farewell, my dearest husband. I would I were
a man! No, no! 'tis better as it is."

Amine watched till she could no longer perceive Philip, and then walked
slowly to the hostelrie. The next day, when she arose, she found that
the fleet had sailed at daylight, and the channel, which had been so
crowded with vessels, was now untenanted.

"He is gone," muttered Amine; "now, for many months of patient, calm
enduring,--I cannot say of living, for I exist but in his presence."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

We must leave Amine to her solitude, and follow the fortunes of Philip.
The fleet had sailed with a flowing sheet, and bore gallantly down the
Zuyder Zee; but they