to accompany her out.

Somewhat surprised by the placid gratitude of her reply, his suspicions
were still further allayed by seeing no sign of the lieutenant, for whom
he kept a sharp look-out. He told the girl--narrowly watching her all the
time--that there were many snares in Liverpool, and that unless he could
see her safely placed in a _feymily_ before the next trip of the
"Hyperion," he must arrange with the owners for the passage-money, and
take her back to her friends, trusting to them to, repay him.

"How generous you are, dear Captain Davidson!" was all she said. But he
noticed she turned deadly pale, and two bright drops stood in her eyes.

The idea was so tempting for a moment, with the irrevocable step of the
morrow hanging over her like a troubled dream. What if she could return
to the old, happy, careless days, and leave this smoky, foggy England,
where care and anxiety rose up at every step! But there is no going back
in life. What should she do in Canada? Her connection with the Rollestons
was played out, and for every one's happiness it was better severed.
There was scarcely any demand for governesses in the Dominion, as the
children commonly went to school; so she would encumber her mother with
the expenses of the voyage, with no prospect of contributing anything to
her very slender fund.

All this passed rapidly through Bluebell's mind; but it soon settled into
an acceptance of what appeared the inevitable, while the good captain
talked on, hoping to induce her to place some confidence in him, if she
did know of her admirer's presence in Liverpool.

The girl fathomed the old man's drift, and most heartily wished she had
not promised to conceal it from him. It would be an unspeakable relief if
this fatherly captain could only countenance and witness her marriage, to
say nothing of being spared the treachery of deceiving him after all his
kindness. But, there!--she had promised Harry, and must abide by her
word.

Only, that evening at bed-time, observing Mrs. Davidson buried head and
shoulders in a cupboard she was straightening, Bluebell suddenly threw
her arms round the old skipper's neck, gave him a silent hug, and glided
from the room, and in the solitude of her own wrote, as fast as pen could
scribble, an impulsive, affectionate letter of adieu, confessing what she
was to do on the morrow, which her husband (she did not mention his name)
would then write and announce to him.

"Eh! is the las