old man's love
and blessing."

Whereupon he gave Tristrem again the diamond brooch that had belonged to
his daughter.

XII.

The journey over was precisely like any other, except in this, that, the
tide of travel being in the contrary direction, the number of cabin
passengers was limited. Among them there was no one whom Tristrem had
met before; yet, after the second day out, there were few whom his
appearance and manner had not attracted and coerced into some overture
to better acquaintance. Of these his attention was particularly claimed
by an Englishman who sat next to him at table, and a young lady who
occupied the seat opposite to his own. In the eyes of the latter was the
mischievous look of a precocious boy. She was extremely pretty; blonde,
fair, with a mouth that said Kiss me--what the French call a _frimousse
frottee de champagne_; and her speech was marked by great vivacity. She
was accompanied by an elderly person who appeared at table but once, and
who during the rest of the voyage remained bundled in shawls in the
ladies' cabin, where refreshments were presumably brought her.

It was rumored that this young lady was an ex-star of the Gaiety, and
more recently a member of a burlesque troupe that had disbanded in the
States. It was added--but then, are not ill-natured things said about
everybody? You, sir, and you, madam, who happen to read this page, have
never, of course, been spoken of other than with the greatest respect,
but what is said of your neighbor? and what have you said yourself?

Tristrem, unaffected by the gossip of the smoking-room, to which,
indeed, he lent but an inattentive ear, allowed the young lady to march
him up and down the deck and, as was his wont, permitted himself to be
generally made use of. Yet if the elderly person in the ladies' cabin
had exacted of him similar attentions, the attentions would have been
rendered with the same prompt and diligent willingness. He was not a
good listener, although he seemed one, but there was a breeziness in the
young lady's conversation which helped him not a little to forget the
discomforts of ocean travel. He walked with her, in consequence, mile
after mile, and when she wearied of that amusement, he got her
comfortably seated and, until she needed him again, passed the time in
the smoking-room.

It was there that he became acquainted with the Englishman who sat next
to him at table. His name, he learned, was Ledyard Yorke. He