an, the sarcumstances being the same, 'go
thou and dew likewise.'"

"You see, Caudel, there was no hope of getting her ladyship's consent."

"No, sir."

"Then, again, consider the cruelty of sending the young lady to a Roman
Catholic school for no fairer or kinder reasons than to remove her out
of my way, and to compel her, if possible, by ceaseless teasing and
exhortation, and God best knows what other devices, to change her
faith."

"I onderstand, sir, and I'm of opinion it was quite time that their
little game was stopped."

"Lady Amelia Roscoe is a Roman Catholic, and very bigoted. Ever since
she first took charge of Miss Bellassys she has been trying to convert
her, and by methods, I assure you, by no means uniformly kind."

"So you was asaying, sir."

It pleased me to be thus candid with this sailor. Possibly there was
in me a little disturbing sense of the need of justifying myself,
though I believe the most acidulated moralist could not have glanced
through the skylight without feeling that I heartily deserved
forgiveness.

"But supposing, Mr. Barclay, sir," continued Caudel, "that you'd ha'
changed your religion and become a Papist; would her ladyship still ha'
gone on objecting to ye?"

"Supposing! Yes, Caudel, she would have gone on objecting even then.
There are family feelings, family traditions, mixed up in her dislike
of me. You shall have the yarn before we go ashore. It is right that
you should know the whole truth. Until I make that young lady below my
wife, she is as much under your care as under mine. That was agreed on
between us, and that you know."

"That I _do_ know, and shall remember as much for her sake as for yourn
and for mine," answered the honest fellow, with a note of deep feeling
in his voice. "There's only one consideration, Mr. Barclay, that
worrits me. I onderstood you to say, sir, that your honour has a
cousin who's a clergyman that's willing to marry ye right away out of
hand."

"We must get the consent of the aunt first."

"_There_ it is!" cried he, smiting the head of the tiller with his
clenched fist, "suppose she dorn't consent?"

"We have taken this step," said I softly, always afraid of disturbing
my sweetheart, "to _force_ her to consent. D'ye think she can refuse,
man, after she hears of this elopement--this midnight rope-ladder
business--and the days we hope to spend together on this little
_Spitfire_?"

"Still, Mr. Barclay, supposing she do, s