At last the day of sailing arrived. Prescott and Teddy Drake went on board at the docks, and remained with them until the pilot went ashore at the Downs. Very hearty were the adieux and good wishes; but Kate kissed her cousin, and her husband’s faithful friend, with scarce a tear in her eye; and, with Charley held up in her arms, and her husband standing with his arm round her, watched the boat until its occupants were no longer distinguishable. “Now, Frank,” she said, as she turned away from the bulwark after the last wave of her handkerchief; “we are fairly off at last, and I’ve got you all to myself for the next five months. I suppose I ought to be very miserable at leaving England, but it has treated me so badly lately that I am not so sorry as I ought to be. You keep hold of me, Charley; the vessel is beginning to roll a little, and you will be down if you don’t mind. Here, Frank, you take him up; I will go and see after Jane and baby. I do not expect she is such a good sailor as I am, and I must look after baby for the next day or two. I feel very happy; don’t you, husband?” “Very, darling; and I have every reason to do so. The past has been a sort of bad dream, Katie; we mustn’t think any more of it. Now, dear, you go down, and I will light my pipe, and look after Charley.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIII NOT GUILTY! Captain Bradshaw had now been down at Torquay for nearly two months. The haughty coldness with which Alice Heathcote had for some time treated the invalid boy, after his refusal of the prayer she had made him on her knees, had now worn off. He was evidently sinking fast, and Alice’s offended pride faded into pity at the sight of his worn looks and failing strength. The invalid had for some time talked but little, and tears often came up into his eyes as he sat silent and abstracted. One day, especially, after he had received a letter from London, he sat more silent even than usual, and looked several times wistfully across at Alice, who had palpably been crying, for a short note from Prescott had told her the same news which James had heard in a letter from Evan. At last he spoke. “Alice,” he said, softly, “I do not think I shall live very long: would you mind kissing me?” Alice’s tears flowed again now, as she bent over the pale face and kissed him.