A large passenger vessel like the _Pandora_, that makes voyages of two and three months’ duration, without stopping on the way, is a hotbed of flirtation. When the first excitement of a ‘life on the ocean wave’ has toned down, and the novels are exhausted, and everybody knows everybody, then scandal and courtship become the order of the day. And what glorious opportunities such a life presents for ripening friendship into love. As in a ballroom the young couples frequent the conservatories, the stairs, the lobbies, and hall, anywhere where they can talk and listen unobserved, so on board-ship they may be found sneaking about the after-part of the poop, the cabin passages, and the lounges in the saloon. They make appointments on the side of the quarter-deck in the dog-watch, or the first night-watch, and there remain gazing at the moon and the stars, or in each other’s eyes, discussing astronomy, or marine aquaria, or the Lord knows what, until the young lady is summarily ordered below. A chaperon cannot possibly follow her charge into every corner of a large ship, for eighty consecutive days. She might be able to keep a strict eye over her in a ballroom, but it would be a herculean task to accomplish the same feat at sea. And so a lengthened propinquity on board-ship often brings about marriages and scandals that never would have taken place on shore. It is also a great vehicle for gossip. What have the passengers to whom no one makes love to do but scandalise the rest. From the Captain to the Jemmy Ducks, from the noble lord who is travelling in the state-room for his pleasure, to the humble emigrant whose whole property consists of the bundle he carries about with him, all who are unwary enough to tell any tales about themselves, or conspicuous enough to have tales told of them, supply food for discussion over the afternoon cups of tea, and learn with astonishment a few weeks after how much more their companions know of their lives and actions than they do themselves. The _Pandora_ had found the north-east trade winds by this time, and making a south-westerly course, was fast diminishing the distance between her and the line. Though it was the autumn of the year, it might well have been mistaken for the spring, for the birds seemed to be pairing in all directions. Mr Harland and Miss Vansittart were seldom apart. Captain Lovell was paying all the attention in his power to Alice Leyton, whilst Vernon Blythe was eating his heart out for the love of Iris Hetherley, and cursing his fate for being an officer of the ship instead of a passenger. Mr Fowler, the mysterious, flew like a humming-bird from flower to flower, enlivening the married ladies with morsels of scandal, and complimenting the girls on their beauty and their wit. Every one liked him, but no one had succeeded in discovering who he was, or what he was doing on board the _Pandora_. He had a wonderful knack of changing the conversation directly it