In the Roaring Fifties

d languidly up to the young couple in her character of the intere

night, Mr. Done, i

out any display of interes

n the night air. Why, Lucy, how foolish you are! not a single

. Macdougal,' said Lucy.

tocracy with superior milkmaids, nursery governesses, and other respectable young persons in lowly walks. Indeed, Mrs. Macdougal, having had no early training worth speaking of, had successfully modelled her manners upon those of a few favourite heroines. She fancied the expression, 'It is, is it not?' lent an air of exquisite refinement to ordinary conversation. She was naturally artificial. Artifice would have been her certain resort in whatever path it had pleased Fate to plant her small feet. Her temper w

ressed a firm white hand upon her ample bosom, and coughed a melancholy little cough, hinting at a

s composed herself in an effective atti

e. It suddenly occurred to her that she was very fond of Lucy Woodrow, alt

on; he merely inclined his head and watched Lucy along the d

accident, and were veiled under their white lids and heavy lashes to convey some idea of the grief that would have lacerated that gentle breast had Lucy Woodrow

r gratitude, ma'am,

ing, and she felt it. The boy was too ridiculous. She assumed

said, after a telling pause, 'you woul

acdougal; the respons

nd him, and was quite shoc

it is, is

iness, and would have liked to have said quite coolly, 'In the devil's name, madam, leave me to myself!' It piqued him that, a

pleasanter in our part, and you have the freedom of the ship, you know. Dear, kind Captain Evan coul

, thanks.' The lad's tone

ere are several nice cabin passengers-quite

ing out there to earn my living. I'm at home he

a gush of confidence and a little air of

a time the boredom of a long, dull voyage, were eager to make a pet of the interesting and mysterious hero; but Jim's moroseness deepened u

, obtruded itself upon his meditations. He surprised himself mapping out a pleasant and beautiful future for her, or dwelling upon her misfortunes with a tender regret, and at such times took refuge from his thoughts

had been guilty of an impertinent interference in her private affairs when he plucked her from the sea, but did it follow that he need worry himself further about the young woman? Certainly not! That point being settled, he could return to his dreams of the Promised Land, the land of liberty, only to find the fair

ur had as yet found place in his nature was exercised to the full at the expense of the lackadaisical lover in life and in fiction, and now he felt there was something absurdly pensive in this phenomenon of his own. He satisfied himself that he was not in love with Lucy, but here were the marked characteristics of the fond and fatuous h

no longer yearned backward to the land where she had left only a grave. Her mind was employed with a most serious duty: she had adopted a mission, and that mission was the regeneration of James Done. The regeneration was not to be so much religious as moral. The poor boy's life was disordered; he had suffered some great wrong; his naturally beautiful, brave, generous disposition was soured; he had lost faith in God and in woman, and it remained for her to restore his belief, to teach him that his fellow-creatures were in the main animated with

selves much to know if t

ith thinking they

not try to be true to the t

o, the world w

The really good man is alw

s; that kind of goodness is an e

ne disdain as a born fool, his vital humanity discovered strange allurements in her, and her proximity fired a craving in his blood that sometimes tempted him to crush her in his ar

Since the use of the forepart of the ship had been offered him as a privilege, Done religiously abstained from encroaching

'I am running a

rangely beautiful and unreal in the dim light-curiously visionary-and yet he felt that she radi

ly.' She turned her face up to him, and her eyes caught the

ature, but it conveyed a sweet flattery. Her hand rested upon his arm, and from its soft pressure flowed currents of

ill of all because one or two have been unkind and unjust, perhaps. Because someone has been false or unfair to you at home there, you a

from his relaxed arms. A few feet of deck, a space of cold moonlight, divided them, and they stood thus, facing each other in silence. Lucy had an intuitive expectancy; the situation called for an avowal. It became awkward. A boyish shamefacedness had followed Done's outburst of passion, and he spoke never a word. The two were victims of a painful anti-climax. A girl has but one resource in such an emergency

othing in common with the girl. He recited a score of her simple, silly opinions in self-defence, and, having strenuously reasserted his freedom, turned over to sleep, and slept never a wink all night. What disturbed him most was the fear of meeting Lucy W