“Do you know,” he said, after a while, “after we have done a fair share of work, we might think ourselves entitled to rest; and what better could we do than go back to England for a time, and go down to the old place in Buckinghamshire?  Then Mrs. Alleyne would be satisfied at last.  How proud the old dame was when she recognized you from your portrait!  She thought all her dreams had come true, and that there was nothing left but to the Checkers and carry off that old cabinet as a wedding present.”

“Natalie,” he said, presently, “how is it that you always manage to do the right thing at the right time?  When Mrs. Alleyne took your mother and you in to the Checkers, and old Mrs. Diggles led you into her parlor and dusted the table with her apron, what made you think of asking her for a piece of cake and a cup of tea?”

“My dearest, I saw the cake in the bar!” she exclaimed.

“I believe the old woman was ready to faint with delight when you praised her currant-wine, and asked how she made it.  You have a wonderful way of getting round people—­whether by fair means or otherwise I don’t know.  Do you think if it had been anybody else but you who went to Von Zoesch in Genoa, he would have let Calabressa come with us to America?”

“Poor old Calabressa!” she said, laughing; “he is very brave now about the sea; but he was terribly frightened that bad night we had after leaving Queenstown.”

Here some one appeared in the dusky recess at the top of the companion-stairs, and stepped out into the open.

“Are you people never coming below at all?” he said.  “I have to inform you, Miss Natalie, with your mamma’s compliments, that she can’t get on with her English verbs because of that fat girl playing Strauss; and that she is going to her cabin, and wants to know when you are coming.”

“Now, at once,” said Natalie, getting up out of her chair.  “But wait a moment, Evelyn:  I cannot go without bidding good-night to Calabressa.  Where is Calabressa?”

“Calabressa!  Oh, in the smoking-room, betting like mad, and going in for all the mock-auctions.  I expect some of them will sit up all night to get their first sight of the land.  The pilot expects that will be shortly after daybreak.”

“You will be in time for that, Natalie, won’t you?” Brand asked.

“Oh yes.  Good-night, Evelyn!” and she gave him her hand.

Brand went with her down the companion-stairs, carrying her rugs and shawls.  In the corridor she turned to bid him good-night also.

“Dearest,” she said, in a low voice, “do you know what I have been trying all day—­to get you to say one word, the smallest word, of regret?”

“But if I have no regret whatever, how can I express any?”

“Sure?”

He laughed, and kissed her.

“Good-night, my darling!”

“Good-night; God bless you!”

Then he made his way along the gloomy corridor again and up the broad zinc steps, and out into the moonlight.  Evelyn was there, leaning with his arms on the hand-rail, and idly watching, far below, the gleams of light on the gray-black waves.