hovered round his neck. He could not
feel himself once more a freeborn Briton till he was indeed on the
bounding ocean.

Once on the way to Europe, there was hope, even though that way was by
America. He parted from his former master, now his friend, with a
feeling of regret; but the fresh breezes, the consciousness he stood on
deck free as the wind, free as the ocean that bore him onward to his
native land, removed from his mind all lingering dread, and filled his
soul with joy; but the human heart is not now in a state to feel for any
length of time unchecked happiness. Four-and-twenty years had elapsed
since Mordaunt had been imagined dead; six-and-twenty since he had
departed from his native land, and had last beheld his friends he so
dearly loved. He might return, and be by all considered an intruder,
perhaps not recognised, his tale not believed; he might see his family
scattered, all of them with new ties, new joys, and with no place for
the long-absent exile. The thought was anguish, but Mordaunt had weakly
indulged it too long to enable him at first to conquer it, even when
Edward's tale of the fond remembrance in which his uncle was held by all
who had loved him, unconsciously penetrated his soul with a sense of the
injustice he had done his friends, and brought consolation with it.

These facts, which we have so briefly thrown together, formed most
interesting subjects to Edward many times during his voyage to New York.
Edward hung as in fascination on the stranger's history, innate
nobleness was stamped in every word. More than once the thought struck
him that he was more than what he appeared to be, but Edward knew he had
a slight tendency towards romance in his composition, and fearful of
lowering himself in the estimation of his newfound friend by the avowal
of such fanciful sentiments, he kept them to himself.

At length the wished-for port to both the Englishmen (New York) was
gained, and their passage secured in the first packet sailing for
England. Edward's heart beat high with anticipated pleasure; he longed
to introduce his new friend to his family, and his bright anticipations
shed a kindred glow over the mind of Mordaunt, who had now become so
devotedly attached to the youth, that he could scarcely bear him out of
his sight; and had he wanted fresh incentive to affection, the deep
affliction of the young sailor on receiving the intelligence of his
cousin Herbert's death, would have been suffici