I embraced her as she uttered these words; and we spent a great part of the night in making preparations for my departure, arrangements for our future correspondence, and, if possible, for our future meetings.  I left her early on the following morning; and with a heavy, I had almost said, a broken heart, appeared before my father.  He was, no doubt, aware of my attachment and the violence of my passions, and prudently endeavoured to soothe them.  He received me affectionately, did not renew the subject of the preceding night, and we became very good friends.

In tearing myself away from Eugenia, I found the truth of the French adage, “Ce n’est que la premiere pas qui coute;” my heart grew lighter as I increased my distance from her.  My father, to detach my mind still more from the unfortunate subject, spoke much of family affairs, of my brother and sisters, and lastly named Mr Somerville and Emily:  here he touched on the right chord.  The remembrance of Emily revived the expiring embers of virtue; and the recollection of the pure and perfect mistress of ——­ Hall, for a time, dismissed the unhappy Eugenia from my mind.  I told my father that I would engage never to disgrace him or myself any more, if he would promise not to name my late folly to Mr Somerville or his daughter.

“That,” said my father, “I promise most readily; and with the greater pleasure, since I see, in your request, the strongest proof of the sense of your error.”

This conversation passed on our road to Portsmouth, where we had no sooner arrived than my father, who was acquainted with the port-admiral, left me at the “George,” while he crossed the street to call on him.  The result of this interview was that I should be sent out immediately in some sea-going ship with a “tight captain.”

There was one of this description just about to sail for Basque Roads; and, at the admiral’s particular request, I was received on board as a supernumerary, there being no vacancies in the ship.  My father, who by this time was wide awake to all my wiles, saw me on board; and then flattering himself that I was in safe custody, took his leave and returned to the shore.  I very soon found that I was under an embargo, and was not on any account to be allowed leave of absence.

This was pretty nearly what I expected; but I had my own resources.  I had now learned to laugh at trifles, and I cared little about this decided step which his prudence induced him to take.

Chapter XI

  “Our boat has one sail,
  And the helmsman is pale;
  A bold pilot, I trow
  Who should follow us now,”
    Shouted he. 
  As he spoke, bolts of death
  Speck’d their path o’er the sea. 
  “And fear’st thou, and fear’st thou? 
  And see’st thou, and hear’st thou? 
  And drive we not free
  O’er the terrible sea,
    I and thou?”

  SHELLEY.