‘Why not speak to Mr Blythe, mistress. He’s young, but he’s your friend; and he’s got a head on his shoulders. Tell it all to him.’ ‘No! no! I can’t!’ said her companion, shaking her head. ‘Well, it’s the truth,’ replied Maggie, rising to her feet; ‘and, if I was you, I’d just leave the brute alone till he’s well in the net, and then come down upon him for bigamy. Why, only think of it! You’d be as free as air! And if you stop him, you may be bound all your life.’ ‘How can I take my happiness at the expense of an innocent person, Maggie?’ ‘Do you mean Miss Vansittart? I shouldn’t call HER innocent! She’s just as ready to have him as he is her; and I bet she’s never took the trouble to ask if he’s married or single. Just like them women! Ready to jump down any man’s throat,’ said Maggie, with as much indignation as if she had not been a woman herself. ‘Well, I’ll leave you now, my pretty, and go on deck to have a look after them two, and if I can find out anything more about their doings, I’ll come back and let you know.’ ‘Yes, do go, dear Maggie. I shall be better left alone to think out this new dilemma by myself. Go to your Will, and be as happy as you can; but don’t tell him anything about me until we meet again.’ As soon as Maggie met Will Farrell, he saluted her with a fresh story concerning their mutual enemy. A rumour had spread about the ship that Harland had played with marked cards the night before, when he had been particularly lucky at Napoleon; and although there was no verification of the report, it was generally known, and every one was looking askance at him in consequence. Mr Vansittart was especially disturbed. He had taken an unusual fancy for Godfrey Harland, and, notwithstanding his wife’s objections to the match, he had encouraged his attentions to his daughter. Now he heard with consternation that Mr Fowler had accused Harland in the smoke-room, of looking over his neighbour’s hand, with the intent to defraud, and he wished earnestly that he had been a little more reticent in his manner towards him. The accusation was a grave one, but it had gone no farther at the time, although the scene that ensued had been very noisy. But it had not been withdrawn, and Mr Fowler had refused to tender an apology, so that the rest of the passengers were beginning not to see Mr Harland when he approached them. ‘If he ever tries it on again, he’ll get tarred and feathered,’ said Farrell, in conclusion. ‘And serve him right, too,’ replied Maggie imprudently. ‘I know _I’d_ like to have the handling of him--the black villain!’ ‘Why, Maggie, what do _you_ know about him?’ said Farrell, with surprise. ‘Haven’t you told me he ruined your life, Will, by palming off his own forgeries upon you?’ ‘Yes, so he did, and I’ll be even with him for it yet. But you spoke as if you had a private grudge against him.’