he had made, remarking at the same time, in a
somewhat admonitory tone, that such fine things were calculated to
arouse worldly thoughts and vanity in the young.

In the course of the summer he became reconciled to the absence of
Randulf. The interval of tranquillity at home was not irksome to him;
his business prospered, and his voyage to Rio procured him a certain
amount of consideration among his fellowtownsmen.

He did not hear often from his son in Lubeck; but the bills he had to
pay for him showed that he was alive, and apparently enjoying life
pretty freely.

Their mutual relations had never been of a very intimate description,
partly because the father had been so much away from home, and partly
because the son had been much spoilt and indulged by the mother, who
was an affected, sentimental sort of person, full of romantic
notions, and whose thoughts ran only on knights and damsels, combats,
moonlight, long tresses, trapdoors, and winding staircases.

Once upon a time she had fascinated Worse when he was a mate, during
a certain boating excursion by moonlight. Such a fine lady, with such
large bright eyes, and such long auburn hair, he had never seen,
either in the Baltic or the Mediterranean.

She had consented to become his for life or death on that occasion,
when, after the company had taken coffee on a little island, he bore
her in his arms, and waded out to the boat with her, instead of
waiting until it could be brought to the shore.

It reminded her a little of Romarino, who, encircling Miranda's
slender waist with his strong right arm, swung himself into the
saddle with his gentle burden, and rode out through the castle gates
upon his snorting steed.

It proved, however, a most unfortunate expedition for both of them.
He was as little like a knight-errant as she was to a sea captain's
wife. When she had devoured all the romances in the lending library,
she lapsed into a sickly dreaminess, from which she aroused herself
only to lament and bewail her fate; and it was this which drove Jacob
Worse to sail on long voyages.

On one occasion, when he was expected home from Lisbon, a child was
born to him, and his wife hastened to have it christened "Romarino."

This went to Worse's heart. He could take no pleasure in the pale
little creature in its cradle, on account of its name, which seemed
to separate the child from him, and to remove it to the fantastic
world of the mother. In fact, to hear Skip