er cough so bad, too?"

"Mamma's cough won't trouble her long, my boy. You'll take care of her
for me, won't you, Harry? and see her safe off on her journey?"

He spoke very quietly now; but if he had not used those ambiguous
sentences, he would have broken down, he knew.

And then the good-bye was said. He kissed Harry tenderly, and then
gathered his weeping wife to his breast. And with an earnest "God
guard you!" that well-nigh seemed to break the bursting heart from
whence the words arose, he moved quickly from the room. So it was all
over now! The long good-bye had been said.

"Take care of her and the boy, Mrs Valentine," he said to the farmer's
wife, as she came hurrying up from the orchard to see him before he
left, "and God will reward you. It will not be for long, I fancy. The
boy must stay with you till I come back."

"I will, I will sir; bless her dear heart!" the farmer's wife cried,
while the tears started to her eyes. "Poor soul, poor soul!" she
murmured after him, as he passed bravely down the lane, villagewards.

And there, in the little farm by the church, sat the pale wife weeping
over her wondering boy, while the shadows of the summer night stole
ghost-like over the lands, till the window was but a faint dim square
in the sad darkness that was within.

That night the Queen's good ship "Thunderer" weighed anchor from the
roadstead where she had been lying off Wilton, and with canvass
stretched, and engines at full speed, swung down the Bristol channel on
the ebb tide, to join the flying squadron on a six months' cruise. And
though many a heart, of seamen and officer alike, felt heavy at parting
from sweetheart or wife, in none was there the dull, hopeless agony
that dwelt behind the stern face of Chief-engineer Campbell, as he
talked on deck with his fellow-officers, or issued his orders to his
men below.

CHAPTER II.

WHY THE SAD GOOD-BYE WAS GIVEN.

In commission--At home in Malta--After long years--Settled at
Wilton--Unwelcome tidings--Unavailing skill.

Fourteen years ago, amid the mists of Scotland, there was a bonny
wedding at a hill-side kirk; the bride, a sweet young English girl, who
had left her southern home to pay a visit to her uncle, the old
village-pastor; the bridegroom, a stout sailor, home from sea for a
short while at his native village. And after a six weeks' happy
wooing, a happy wedding took the two away, far from the heathery hills
and the mountain