right."

"That's my own darling Jemmy," said Moggy, "and if you're content, and
I'm content, who is to say a word, I should like to know? You may be a
rum one to look at, but I think them fellows found you but a rum
customer the other night."

"Don't put so much rum in your discourse, Moggy, you make me long for a
glass of grog."

"Then your mouth will find the water," rejoined Nancy; "but, however,
singing is dry work, and I am provided. Pass my basket aft, old
gentleman, and we will find Mr Salisbury something with which to whet
his whistle." The boatman handed the basket to Nancy, who pulled out a
bottle and glass, which she filled, and handed to Jemmy.

"Now, Mr Salisbury, I expect some more songs," said Nancy.

"And you shall have them, mistress; but I've heard say that you've a
good pipe of your own; suppose that you give me one in return, that will
be but fair play."

"Not exactly, for you'll have the grog in the bargain," replied Nancy.

"Put my fiddle against the grog, and then all's square."

"I have not sung for many a day," replied Nancy, musing, and looking up
at the bright twinkling stars. "I once sang, when I was young--and
happy--I then sang all the day long; that was really singing, for it
came from the merriness of my heart;" and Nancy paused. "Yes, I have
sung since, and often, for they made me sing; but 'twas when my heart
was heavy--or when its load had been, for a time, forgotten and drowned
in wine. That was not singing, at least not the singing of bygone days."

"But those times are bygone too, Mistress Nancy," said Moggy; "you have
now your marriage lines, and are made an honest woman."

"Yes, and God keep me so, amen," replied Nancy mournfully.

Had not the night concealed it, a tear might have been seen by the
others in the boat to trickle down the cheek of Nancy Corbett, as she
was reminded of her former life; and as she again fixed her eyes upon
the brilliant heavens, each particular star appeared to twinkle
brighter, as if they rejoiced to witness tears like those.

"You must be light o' heart now, Mistress Nancy," observed Jemmy,
soothingly.

"I am not unhappy," replied she, resting her cheek upon her hand.

"Mistress Nancy," said Moggy, "I should think a little of that stuff
would do neither of us any harm; the night is rather bleak."

Moggy poured out a glass and handed it to Nancy; she drank it, and it
saved her from a flood of tears, which otherwise she would have been