Shaughnessey. And on her other
side, sat Captain M'Gramm, in despite of Mrs. Bangster's motherly
care and of his own wife at home. On the following morning, Mrs.
Price and Captain M'Gramm were walking the deck together just as they
had been used to do on the other side of Suez.

And so things went on till the day before their arrival at
Southampton. Mrs. Cox still kept her seat next to Bertram, and
opposite to Wilkinson, though no other lady remained to countenance
her. She and Bertram still walked the deck arm in arm; but their
whisperings were not so low as they had been, nor were their words so
soft, nor, indeed, was the temper of the lady so sweet. What if she
should have thrown away all the advantages of the voyage! What if she
had fallen between two stools! She began to think that it would be
better to close with one or with the other--with the one despite his
poverty, or with the other despite his head.

And now it was the evening of the last day. They had sighted the
coast of Devonshire, and the following morning would see them
within the Southampton waters. Ladies had packed their luggage;
subscriptions had been made for the band; the captain's health had
been drunk at the last dinner; and the mail boxes were being piled
between the decks.

"Well, it is nearly over," said Mrs. Cox, as she came upon deck after
dinner, warmly cloaked. "How cold we all are!"

"Yes; it is nearly over," answered Bertram. "What an odd life of
itself one of these voyages is! How intimate people are who will
never see each other again!"

"Yes; that is the way, I suppose. Oh, Mr. Bertram!"

"Well, what would you have?"

"Ah, me! I hardly know. Fate has ever been against me, and I know
that it will be so to the last."

"Is it not cold?" said Bertram, buttoning up a greatcoat as he spoke.

"Very cold! very cold!" said Mrs. Cox. "But there is something much
colder than the weather--very much colder."

"You are severe, Mrs. Cox."

"Yes. It is Mrs. Cox here. It was Annie when we were off Gibraltar.
That comes of being near home. But I knew that it would be so. I hate
the very idea of home." And she put her handkerchief to her eyes.

She had had her chance as far as Bertram was concerned, and had let
it pass from her. He did not renew his protestations; but in lieu
of doing so, lit a cigar, and walked away into the fore-part of the
vessel. "After all, Arthur is right," said he to himself; "marriage
is too serious a thing to be