and thence on the Grand Tour. There were
gay daughters, to whom all was new, a
"dear papa," delighted himself; their
carriage and the courier were on board.
These things Mr. West learned from the
girls themselves, who were vastly entertained
with the lively, good-natured Englishman who
was crossing with them, and whom "dear
papa" pronounced "as sensible a man as he
ever met." For from that grave forehead
had passed away all gloom and depression,
and the sense of thought and hopelessness,
and the look of "being ten years older"
which he had so gratuitously taken on himself.
The dull, unfashionable grey livery, quite in
keeping, had given place to handsome and even
fashionable garments. This was no bit of dandyism,
but an almost unconsciousness of his old
habit and old nature, which made him think
that to be well dressed was to be a gentleman,
almost as much as behaving with honour,
truth, and profound courtesy, and the other
virtues. They had "a charming passage,"
every one saying that the Eagle was really a fine
boat, and complimenting the captain at dinner
on commanding such an admirable craft. These
compliments were indeed justly due to the
forbearance of the weather, it being a true
ladies' day, the Eagle being sure to behave in
the most outrageous, imbecile, helpless way
when there was anything like a heavy sea on.
Now came the low-lying flats of the French
coast, the theatrical Phare glittering in the
sun, the two wickerwork piers all white drawing
on. Now they were gliding by the great
cross, and, turning the bend, the little town
and port, the low gay houses, the crowded
quays, the English, in full waiting for their
prey, in ranks. Now Mr. West's heart began
to flutter, and he looked out anxiously as they
glided by. Then the ranks began to move,
and walk along to keep up with the vessel.
He saw the familiar figures, waiting, as usual,
with an interest that no repetition could pall;
Captain Filby with his stick; Mr. Blacker, with
eager eye, prying at the crowd of passengers
on the deck, as though he had been expecting a
whole colony of friends, and here they were,
come at last. He had indeed noted the
substantial travelling-carriage, the courier, and the
no less substantial family with whom his quick
intelligence at once associated it. About them
there could be "no mistake;"  it was a good
investment for attention.  " I should be most
happy to be of any service to you. I am the
secretary to the English chapel here, &c." It
was very strange to Mr. West thus returning
to the settlement, and for the moment the look
of the whole curiously depressed him. The
very familiarity, instead of encouraging, made
him melancholy. At last his eye suddenly
lighted on his sister, cold, but stiff and
anxious, looking and gazing wistfully at the
deck.

All were now coming ashore, and in a moment
he was beside her, and had her arm in his. The
custom-house officers of the place knew their
own colonists very well, and were always indulgent
to them about the formal searching. Mr.
West was set free in a moment.

"Margaret, Margaret dearest, I am back with
you again. And how have you been? And
tell me about yourself. Everything here looks
just the same."

And he looked round eagerly. There was
a constraint and nervousness in her manner
which he did not at first notice.

"Oh yes," she answered; " I have been so
lonely without you, Gilbert. And now let us
get home. You must be so tired; and we will
have dinner at once."

"Tired! Not I, Margery," he said, gaily,
still looking about. " I have travelled too
much since to be tired. Oh, I have such
adventures to tell you. And such plans, Margery.
What do you think? I was down at the old
place. Does that surprise you? Upon my
word, this looks quite festive. Never thought
it was such a gay pretty place before!"

"Do come home," she said, impatiently.
"Surely you have seen all this over and over
again. I want to hear everything. Do come!"

He looked at her with a little astonishment.
"My dear Margery," he was beginning, when
an impatient exclamation broke from her lips,
and he felt her hand beat on his arm. He
looked up, and there before him was the soft
face that for all these weeks had been present
to him, that had figured in all the little reverie
dramas which had been playing before him
morning and evening, and sometimes in dreams
at night.

Dreams, indeed! Why did he not go
forward to meet her, but stop thus irresolutely?
She did not see him—was certainly not thinking
of him at that moment, for her hand was
on the arm of a tall handsome man, that
looked some ten years younger than Mr.
West. And her face was looking up at the
handsome Spanish face—looking into the dark
interesting eyes with an absorbed overpouring
gaze. She was seeing, hearing, him alone. For
a certain instinct, that tells us a whole history
in one flash, there is neither time nor space;
and in that one second Mr. West seemed to
read a long story, with all its details, which the
reader may have guessed long ago.

The surprise and then the shock overpowered
him. Now she saw him. With a start and a
rush of colour to her cheek she stopped also;
then put out her hand, with "Ah! Mr. West!
Returned to us!" He bowed, and said, " Yes; I
have come." Two of the usual unmeaning
speeches, for which neither was certainly
accountable in such moments of doubt and agitation.
The few sentences that followed may be
imagined.

"We were expecting you so long. We were
wondering what had become of you—"

He was still looking with the same surprise,
and had not yet collected himself. Now Mr.
Dacres had come up. There was a constraint
in his manner.

"Hallo, West, come back at last! 'Pon