n."

"And you were bound to Penzance, I understand?"

"Yes."

"Why Penzance?"

"To get married at a church in that district."

"Who was going to marry ye?"

"A cousin of mine, the Reverend Frank Howe, of course, after we had
fulfilled the confounded legal conditions which obstruct young people
like ourselves in England."

"And what are the legal conditions? It's so long since I was married
that I forget 'em," said the captain.

"Residence, as it is called; then the consent of her ladyship, as Miss
Bellassys is under age."

"But she isn't going to consent, is she?"

"How can she refuse after our association in the yacht--and here?"

It took him some time to understand; he then shut one eye and said, "I
see."

We pulled at our cigars in silence as we gazed at each other. The
evening had blackened into night; a silver star or two slided in the
open port through which came the washing noise of the water as it swept
eddying and seething past the bends into the wake of the ship; now and
again the rudder jarred harshly and there was a monstrous tread of feet
overhead. We were at the extreme after end of the vessel, where the
heave of her would be most sensibly felt, and she was still curtseying
with some briskness, but I scarcely heeded the motion, so effectually
had the mad behaviour of the _Spitfire_ cured me of all tendency to
nausea.

"And now, Mr. Barclay," exclaimed the captain, after a silence of a
minute or two, "I'll explain why I have made so free as to ask you for
your story. It's the opinion of Mrs. Barstow and Miss Moggadore, that
Miss Bellassys and you ought to be married right away off. It's a duty
that's owing to the young lady. You can see it for yourself, sir. Her
situation, young gentleman," he added with emphasis, "is not what it
ought to be."

"I agree in every word," I exclaimed, "but--"

He interrupted me: "Her dignity is yours, her reputation is yours. And
the sooner you're married the better."

I was about to speak, but despite my pronouncing several words he
proceeded obstinately:

"Mrs. Barstow is one of the best natured women in the world. There
never was a more practical lady; sees a thing in a minute; and you may
believe in her advice as you would in the fathom marks on a headline.
Miss Moggadore, the young lady that sat on my left at table--did you
notice her, Mr. Barclay?"

"A middle-aged lady, with curls?"

"Eight and thirty. Ain't that young enough? Ay, Mi