rge,
close-cropped head. He had a well-formed nose, a powerful chin, and full
lips--all very strong and set for one so young. His complexion was
dark--almost swarthy--and there was a certain look of the gipsy in his
big golden-brown eyes with their long black lashes. He was clean shaven,
and the lower part of his face seemed heavy under the splendid fire of
the eyes above it. His manner had a sort of diffident restraint; he stood
on the same spot without moving, and almost without raising his drooping
head; his speech was grave and usually slow and laboured; his voice was
bold and full.

The second bell had rung, and the old parson was making ready to go
ashore.

"You'll take care of this runaway, Mr. Storm, and deliver her safely at
the door of the hospital?"

"I will."

"And you'll keep an eye on her in that big Babylon over there?"

"If she'll let me, sir."

"Yes, indeed, yes; I know she's as unstable as water and as hard to hold
as a puff of wind."

The girl was laughing again. "You might as well call me a tempest and
have done with it, or," with a glance at the younger man, "say a
storm--Glory St---- Oh!"

With a little catch of the breath she arrested the name before it was
uttered by her impetuous tongue, and laughed again to cover her
confusion. The young man smiled faintly and rather painfully, but the old
parson was conscious of nothing.

"Well, and why not? A good name for you too, and you richly deserve
it.--But the Lord is lenient with such natures, John. He never tries them
beyond their strength. She hasn't much leaning to religion, you know."

The girl recalled herself from the busy scene around and broke in again
with a tone of humour and pathos mixed.

"There, call me an infidel at once, grandfather. I know what you mean.
But just to show you that I haven't exactly registered a vow in heaven
never to go to church in London because you've given me such a dose of it
in the Isle of Man, I'll promise to send you a full and particular report
of Mr. Storm's first sermon. Isn't that charming of me?"

The third bell was ringing, the blast of the steam whistle was echoing
across the bay, and the steamer was only waiting for the mails. Taking a
step nearer to the gangway, the old parson talked faster.

"Did Aunt Anna give you money enough, child?"

"Enough for my boat fare and my train."

"No more! Now Anna is so----"

"Don't trouble, grandfather. Woman wants but little here below--Aunt Anna