thou of little faith," he cried, "what little I
may have done has been for her. No, Richard, you do not deserve her, but
I would rather think of her as your wife than that of any man living."

I shall not dwell upon that painful farewell which wrung our hearts, and
made us silent for a long, long while after the ship was tossing in the
short seas of the Channel.

Nor is it my purpose to tell you of that long voyage across the Atlantic.
We reached Lisbon in safety, and after a week of lodgings in that city by
the best of fortune got passage in a swift bark bound for Baltimore. For
the Chesapeake commerce continued throughout the war, and kept alive the
credit of the young nation. There were many excitements ere we sighted
the sand-spits of Virginia, and off the Azores we were chased for a day
and a night by a British sloop of war. Our captain, however, was a cool
man and a seaman, and slipped through the cruisers lying in wait off the
Capes very triumphantly.

But the remembrance of those fair days at sea fills my soul with longing.
The weather was mild and bright for the season, and morning upon morning
two stout topmen would carry me out to a sheltered spot on the deck,
always chosen by my lady herself. There I sat by the hour, swathed in
many layers of wool, and tended by her hands alone. Every nook and
cranny of our lives were revealed to the other. She loved to hear of
Patty and my years at Gordon's, and would listen with bated breath to the
stories of the Ranger and the Bonhomme Richard, and of that strange man
whom we both loved, whose genius had made those cruises famous.
Sometimes, in low voices, we talked of our future; but often, when the
wind blew and the deck rocked and the sun flashed upon the waters, a
silence would fall between us that needed no word to interpret.

Mrs. Manners yielded to my wish for us all to go to Carvel Hall. It was
on a sparkling morning in February that we sighted the familiar toe of
Kent Island, and the good-natured skipper put about and made for the
mouth of our river. Then, as of old, the white cupola of Carvel House
gleamed a signal of greeting, to which our full hearts beat a silent
response. Once again the great windmill waved its welcome, and the same
memory was upon us both as we gazed. Of a hale old gentleman in the
sheets of a sailing pinnace, of a boy and a girl on his knees quivering
with excitement of the days to come. Dorothy gently pressed my hand as
the bark came i