eet song of the wind as it sang
amongst the rigging. Augusta turned her face toward it, and, being
alone, stretched out her arms as though to catch it. The whole scene
awoke some answering greatness in her heart; something that slumbers in
the bosom of the higher race of human beings, and only stirs--and then
but faintly--when the passions move them, or when nature communes with
her nobler children. She felt that at that moment she could write as she
had never written yet. All sorts of beautiful ideas, all sorts of
aspirations after that noble calm, and purity of thought and life for
which we pray and long, but are not allowed to reach, came flowing into
her heart. She almost thought that she could hear her lost Jeannie's
voice calling down the gale, and her strong imagination began to paint
her hovering like a sea-bird upon white wings high above the mainmast's
taper point, and gazing through the darkness into the soul of her she
loved. Then, by those faint and imperceptible degrees with which
thoughts fade one into another, from Jeannie her thought got round to
Eustace Meeson. She wondered if he had ever called at the lodgings at
Birmingham after she left? Somehow, she had an idea that he was not
altogether indifferent to her; there had been a look in his eyes she did
not quite understand. She almost wished now she had sent him a line or a
message. Perhaps she would do so from New Zealand. Just then her
meditations were interrupted by a step, and, turning round, she found
herself face to face with the captain.

"Why, Miss Smithers!" he said, "what on earth are you doing here at this
hour?--making up romances?"

"Yes," she answered, laughing, and with perfect truth. "The fact of
the matter is, I could not sleep, and so I came on deck; and very
pleasant it is!"

"Yes," said the captain, "If you want something to put into your stories
you won't find anything better than this. The Kangaroo is showing her
heels, isn't she, Miss Smithers? That's the beauty of her, she can sail
as well as steam; and when she has a strong wind like this abaft, it
would have to be something very quick that would catch her. I believe
that we have been running over seventeen knots an hour ever since
midnight. I hope to make Kerguelen Island by seven o'clock to correct my
chronometers."

"What is Kerguelen Island?" asked Augusta.

"Oh! it is a desert place where nobody goes, except now and then a
whaler to fill up with water. I believe that