y
two--who did; quite enough, in fact, to fully compensate for the ease
with which she was able to manage all the rest. One of these was a
certain Lieutenant Walford, a cousin of Lucy's; the other being Captain
George Leicester, of the merchant schooner _Industry_.

Edward Walford was the only son of a half-brother of the late Captain
Walford. He was an orphan, twenty-three years of age, and held a
commission in his Majesty's--foot, then quartered in Gosport. He was
fairly well educated, tall, passably good-looking, of engaging manners,
but--those who knew him best said--treacherous, unscrupulous, and a
gamester.

George Leicester, on the other hand, whilst perhaps quite as handsome as
his rival, was simply a frank, honest, sturdy seaman, carrying his heart
upon his sleeve; thoroughly master of his profession, but diffident and
doubtful of himself in all other matters.

The trouble with these two was, that Walford could not be made to see
that his presence was distasteful to Lucy; whilst Leicester was
provokingly blind to the fact that the fair girl loved him with all her
pure, simple little heart. She had not given her love to him unsought,
it must be understood--far from it; George Leicester had been one of the
earliest, as he was one of her most constant and devoted, admirers; he
was unremitting in his attentions to her whenever he was in port; but
the simple fellow was so doubtful as to his prospects of success that he
had never given Lucy the chance, which she would so gladly have
welcomed, to say "Yes" to the momentous question which was ever hovering
upon his lips, but had never yet been able to get beyond them.

It was on a certain brilliant June afternoon that Lucy, as was her
frequent custom, took a book in her hand and strolled down to the beach,
where, making a little nest for herself in the shingle, she sat down to
read or think, as the whim might take her.

The ardent rays of the sun, streaming down out of a cloudless sky,
gleamed and flashed and sparkled upon the waters of the Solent, which,
ruffled by a gentle westerly breeze, shone like a sheet of liquid gold.
On the further side of the strait, the Isle of Wight upreared its green
and wooded slopes in fair perspective; its northern shore, from
Nettlestone Point to Egypt, bounding the view. On Lucy's right lay the
entrance to Southampton Water, with the further shore, about Stone Point
and the mouth of the Beaulieu River, indistinctly seen thro