at fruition seemed about to
crown her hopes she was happy to her heart's core; and when once to
herself wept for sheer joy. It is little wonder she was happy. She was
leaving behind no one whom she loved excepting Jane, and perhaps, me.
No father nor mother; only a sister whom she barely knew, and a
brother whose treatment of her had turned her heart against him. She
was also fleeing with the one man in all the world for her, and from a
marriage that was literally worse than death.

Brandon, on the other hand, had always had more desire than hope. The
many chances against success had forced upon him a haunting sense of
certain failure, which, one would think, should have left him now. It
did not, however, and even when on shipboard, with a score of men at
the windlass ready to heave anchor at the first breath of wind, it was
as strong as when Mary first proposed their flight, sitting in the
window on his great cloak. Such were their opposite positions. Both
were without doubt, but with this difference; Mary had never doubted
success; Brandon never doubted failure. He had a keen analytical
faculty that gave him truthfully the chances for and against, and, in
this case, they were overwhelmingly unfavorable. Such hope as he had
been able to distil out of his desire was sadly dampened by an
ever-present premonition of failure, which he could not entirely
throw off. Too keen an insight for the truth often stands in a man's
way, and too clear a view of an overwhelming obstacle is apt to
paralyze effort. Hope must always be behind a hearty endeavor.

Our travelers were, of course, greatly in need of rest; so Mary went
to her room, and Brandon took a berth in the cabin set apart for the
gentlemen.

They had both paid for their passage, although they had enlisted and
were part of the ship's company. They were not expected to do sailor's
work, but would be called upon in case of fighting to do their part at
that. Mary was probably as good a fighter, in her own way, as one
could find in a long journey, but how she was to do her part with
sword and buckler Brandon did not know. That, however, was a bridge to
be crossed when they should come to it.

They had gone aboard about seven o'clock, and Brandon hoped the ship
would be well down Bristol channel before he should leave his berth.
But the wind that had filled Mary's jack-boots with rain and had
howled so dismally all night long would not stir, now that it was
wanted. Noon c