guide
the little vessel, and they had chosen for captain a young Englishman
called Lionel Machin, whose directions they obeyed, and in whom they
appeared to have full confidence.

It was for Lionel's sake that the party of friends were now making their
escape from England. He had married a girl whom he had long loved, but
he had not gained the consent of her father and mother. They were
powerful and rich, and he had reason to fear that his young wife would
be taken from him through their influence with the king, and therefore
he had determined to seek a French port, and to hide himself and wife in
some French city which did not own Edward as its king.

But, ignorant as they were of navigation, it was no easy matter for them
to direct their course aright, and, high winds springing up, they were
beaten about for five days without catching sight of the coast of
France. They did not know in what direction they were being carried, and
all on board, especially the new-made wife, were full of uneasiness and
dismay. Lionel encouraged Arabella with loving and hopeful words, even
when his own heart was sinking low, but his friends, who had come only
for his sake, and without well considering the dangers and risks which
they might encounter, were fast losing spirit and hope. Their merry
adventure seemed to be turning into sad earnest, and these light-hearted
lads, having nothing to sustain their courage when pleasure was gone,
now vented their disappointment in continual murmurs and regrets.

Arabella herself tried to seem indifferent to their danger, and secure
in Lionel's care; she hid her tears, lest they might grieve her husband;
but when she thought that no one saw her, she gave herself up to sorrow
and despair. She thought of her father and mother whom she had left
secretly, lest they should forbid her marriage with Lionel, and she
longed with an aching heart for one word of love and forgiveness. For
hours she would sit, her eyes turned toward that part of the horizon
where she had last seen the coast of England, her thoughts busied about
her old home: her father, taking his pleasures with a sad heart; her
little sister, weeping for her lost playmate; and, most of all, her
mother, upright and dry-eyed, after the stern fashion of the day, but
yet, as Arabella well knew, ever thinking of her absent and disobedient
child, ever missing the light step, the loving smile, the tender touch
of the daughter she had loved so well.