head sink upon his breast, and his arm enfold her. Thus
sheltered, she felt safe, thus and thus only. She had thrown her cap
over the mills; snapped her fingers at society; cared not a jot what the
world might think or say of her. This man would she marry and no other;
this man's fortune would she follow for good or evil. He had that kind
of influence with women which is almost 'possession.' It smells of
brimstone.

'Come, my dear good soul,' said Montesma, smiling at the angry matron,
'why not take things quietly? You have had a good many girls under your
wing; and you must know that youth and maturity see life from a
different standpoint. In your eyes my old friend Smithson is an
admirable match. You measure him by his houses, his stable, his banker's
book; but Lesbia would rather marry the man she loves, and take the
risks of his fate. I am not a pauper, Lady Kirkbank, and the home to
which I shall take my love is pretty enough for a princess of the blood
royal, and for her sake I shall grow richer yet,' he added, with his
eyes kindling; 'and if you care to pay us a visit next February in our
Parisian apartment I will promise you as pleasant a nest as you can wish
to occupy.'

'How do I know that you will ever bring her back to Europe?' said Lady
Kirkbank, piteously. 'How do I know that you will not bury her alive in
your savage country, among blackamoors, like those horrid sailors, over
there--kill her, perhaps, when you are tired of her?'

At these words of Lady Kirkbank's, flung out at random, Montesma
blanched, and his deep black eye met hers with a strangely sinister
look.

'Yes,' she cried, hysterically--'kill her, kill her! You look as if you
could do it.'

Lesbia nestled closer to her lover's heart.

'How dare you say such things to him,' she cried, angrily. '_I_ trust
him, don't you see; trust him with my whole heart, with all my soul. I
shall be his wife to-morrow, for good or evil.'

'Very much for evil, I'm afraid,' said Lady Kirkbank. 'Perhaps you will
be kind enough to come to your cabin and take off that ball gown, and
make yourself just a little less disreputable in outward appearance,
while I get a cup of tea.'

Lesbia obeyed, and went down to her cabin, where Kibble was waiting with
a fresh white muslin frock and all its belongings, laid out ready for
her mistress, sorely perplexed at the turn which affairs were taking.
She had never liked Horace Smithson, although he had given her tips