After she had done, she gazed at the letter for a moment, and then said to herself, "It will alarm him--perhaps it will make him come here, and that would be his ruin;" and, taking the pen again, she added, "Though I feel very ill, I do not think it is the plague. I am sure, indeed, it is not--there has not yet been time. Heaven bless you. Adieu!" and bending her head over the letter, she let the tears which were in her eyes drop upon the page. Then folding and sealing it, she called the man who had brought it, and putting some money into his hand, bid him make all speed. Without delay, he set off upon his errand, and, riding all night, reached, early the next morning, the little port of Leigh, off which the ship that bore William Seymour had been moored on the preceding evening. The ship's boat was at the shore, and the messenger, entering it without delay, was soon rowed to the vessel, where, in the cabin, waiting for him alone, he found his young master. "The lady is very ill, sir," he said, in a low voice; "she looked very ill, indeed." "Ill!" exclaimed her lover, with a look full of grief and disappointment. "Good Heaven, how unfortunate!" and taking the letter, he opened it and read it. The colour left his cheek, as he did so, and his hand shook with agitation. "I cannot go," he cried, "I cannot go and leave her.--Hark you, Williams, hark you! Quick, pack up some things in the saddlebags.--Can I get a horse at Leigh?" "None but the one that brought me, sir," replied the man; "and that is well nigh knocked up.--We have no saddle-bags with us, sir." "Row on shore, then," said his master. "Do the best you can to refresh your horse, and send back the boat for me. I will join you in a couple of hours. By that time he will be able to go on." The man shook his head. "Part of the way, at least, till I can get another," added the young gentleman; "he must--he shall." The man knew it was useless to argue, and retiring from the cabin, mounted the ladder to the deck. William Seymour pressed his lips upon the letter again and again. "She was weeping when she wrote it," he said, gazing at the blotted page. "Dear girl, I will see thee, if it be for an hour." But scarcely had the words passed his lips, when, through the little window in the stern, he saw one of the gilded barges of the day come rushing along with full wind and tide; and the next moment a good deal of shouting and noise was heard above. An instant after, his servant ran down, and closing the door behind him, said, "Sir George Carew is alongside, sir, asking if this is your vessel." "Curses upon him!" cried Seymour, striking the table. "But it is not his fault, either.--It is impossible now;" and folding up the letter, he placed it in his bosom, while a number of voices were heard talking upon deck, and some steps descending the ladder.