n't you tell me a word of your own accord? You kep' dark. Do you call
yourself a man, to leave my poor young lady to shift for herself?"

"She had as good a chance to live as I had," said Wylie, sullenly.

"No, she hadn't; you took care o' yourself. Well, since you are so fond
of yourself, keep yourself _to_ yourself, and don't come here no more.
After this, I hate the sight on ye. You are like the black dog in my
eyes, and always will be. Poor, dear Miss Helen! Ah, I cried when she
left--my mind misgave me; but little I thought she would perish in the
salt seas, and all for want of a man in the ship. If you had gone out
again after in the steamboat--Mr. Penfold have told me all about it--I'd
believe you weren't so much to blame. But no; lolloping and looking about
all day for months. There's my door, Joe Wylie; I can't cry comfortable
before you as had a hand in drowning of her. You and me is parted
forever. I'll die as I am, or I'll marry a _man;_ which you ain't one,
nor nothing like one. Is he waiting for you to hold the door open, Mr.
Penfold? or don't I speak plain enough? Them as I gave the sack to afore
you didn't want so much telling."

"Well, I'm going," said Wylie, sullenly. Then, with considerable feeling,
"This is hard lines."

But Nancy was inexorable, and turned him out, with the 2,000 pounds in
his pocket.

He took the notes out of his pocket, and flung them furiously down in the
dirt.

Then he did what everybody does under similar circumstances, he picked
them up again, and pocketed them, along with the other dirt they had
gathered.

Next day he went down to the docks and looked out for a ship; he soon got
one, and signed as second mate. She was to sail in a fortnight.

But, before a week was out, the banknotes had told so upon him that he
was no longer game to go to sea. But the captain he had signed with was a
Tartar, and not to be trifled with. He consulted a knowing friend, and
that friend advised him to disguise himself till the ship had sailed.
Accordingly he rigged himself out with a long coat, and a beard, and
spectacles, and hid his sea-slouch as well as he could, and changed his
lodgings. Finding he succeeded so well, he thought he might as well have
the pleasure of looking at Nancy Rouse, if he could not talk to her. So
he actually had the hardihood to take the parlor next door; and by this
means he heard her move about in her room, and caught a sight of her at
work on her little gre