ette descriptive of soldier life,
far more picturesque than it was proper; and all this time there was
the old Commodore cruising above and below him, eying and watching
him,--growing perfectly feverish with the anxiety of his doubts, and
yet unable to confirm or refute them. It was a suspicious craft; he felt
that he had seen it before, and knew the rig well, and yet he was afraid
to board and say, "Let me look at your papers."

"I say, Beck, just go slyly up and say something accidentally about
Barbadoes; don't ask any questions, but remark that the evening is
close, or the sky threatening, or the air oppressive, just as it used to
be before a tornado there." The old sailor watched her, as he might have
watched a boat-party on a cutting-out expedition; he saw her draw nigh
the piano; he thought he could trace all the ingenious steps by which
she neared her object; and he was convinced that she had at last thrown
the shell on board him; but what was his grievous disappointment, as
he saw that the little fellow had turned to her with a look of warmest
admiration, and actually addressed a very ardent love-song to the eyes
that were then bent upon him. The Commodore made signals to cease firing
and fall back, but in vain. She was too deeply engaged to think of
orders; and there she stood to be admired and worshipped and adored, in
all the moods and tenses of a French "romance." But Miss Rebecca Graham
was not the only victim of the Major's captivations; gradually the
whole company of the drawing-room had gathered round the piano, some to
wonder, some to laugh at, some to feel amused by, and not a few to feel
angry with, that little fiery-eyed, impertinent-looking fellow, who eyed
the ladies so languishingly, and stared at the men as if asking, "Who'll
quarrel with me?" You might not like, but it was impossible to ignore
him. There was, too, in his whole air and bearing a conscious sense of
power,--a sort of bold self-reliance,--that dignifies even impudence;
and as he sat in his chair with head up and hands vigorously striking
the chords of the piano, he looked, as it is by no means improbable that
he felt, "M'Caskey against the field." It was in the midst of hearty
applause at a song he had just completed, that Maitland entered the
room. In the hall he had learned from the servants that his foreign
friend had arrived, and he hurried forward to greet him. Rather puzzled
at the vociferous gayety of the company, he made his