Could there be any error in the matter? She seemed very shy, and inexperienced. Was it possible she had got into the wrong cabin by mistake? Jack determined to find out, and with that view walked up to the further end of the table. As Iris perceived that some one was approaching her, she drew the thick veil she wore right over her features, and pretended still to be reading through it, although it was impossible she could decipher a word. Jack threw himself into a seat near her, and whistled a few bars of music carelessly, just to show that he was completely at his ease. Then after the pause of a minute, he addressed her:-- ‘I beg your pardon! I hope that you are comfortable, and have everything you require. Things are apt to be a little confused on starting, but I am one of the officers of the ship, and if there is anything I can do for you, you have but to ask me.’ He paused for a reply, but it was long in coming. Iris’s thick veil did not prevent her hearing, and the sound of his young manly voice had struck on her heart like a knell. She recognised it at once, and even through her veil she recognised him. She remembered distinctly when she had heard that voice last,--its earnest, passionate tones,--the strangled agony in it on her refusal to listen,--the sob with which he had turned to leave her for ever! She had often thought of that scene, and of her boyish lover since then,--had often asked herself whether she had not been a blind fool to turn from his suit to listen to that of Godfrey Harland,--had even wondered if she should ever meet Vernon Blythe again, and tell him she regretted the pain which she had given him. And here he was--in the very same ship with herself, and speaking to her in that unforgotten voice. At the first blush, it seemed to Iris Harland as if everything were lost. Her own voice shook so in answering him that it would have been hard for any one to recognise it. ‘Thank you,’ she said, in the lowest possible tone, ‘but there is nothing.’ ‘Introductions are not supposed to be necessary aboard ship,’ continued Jack, ‘so I hope you will not think me forward in asking your name.’ ‘Miss Douglas.’ ‘And mine is Vernon Blythe, at your service,’ he said, lifting his cap and putting it on his head again. ‘Are you going out to Lyttleton?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You have friends there, perhaps?’ ‘No.’ This answer puzzled him. What on earth could so young a lady intend to do in a strange country without friends? He hazarded another conjecture. ‘You know the country then?--you have been there before?’ ‘No, never!’ replied Miss Douglas, in the same agitated tones. After this, Jack felt that he must ask no more. She evidently did not wish to be communicative, and further questioning would devolve into impertinence. He was wondering if he dared speak to her again, when Maggie Greet rushed back into the cabin, and up to her mistress’s side. ‘Now, my dear,’ she cried, ‘I’m going to put you to bed.’