In the ladies’ cabin all was helplessness and confusion: the larger portion of the berths were already occupied by invalids in every stage of sea-sickness; the floor and sofas were strewn with bonnets and shawls, and articles of dress were scattered about in all directions. Some of the ladies were stretched upon the carpet; others, in a sitting posture, were supporting their aching heads upon their knees, and appeared perfectly indifferent to all that was passing around them, and only alive to their own misery. Others there were, who, beginning to recover from the odious malady, were employing their returning faculties in quizzing, and making remarks in audible whispers, on their prostrate companions. The centre of such a group was a little sharp-faced, dark-eyed, sallow-skinned old maid of forty, whose angular figure was covered with ample folds of rich black silk, cut very low in the bust, and exposing a portion of her person, which, in all ladies of her age, is better hid. She was travelling companion to a large, showily-dressed matron of fifty, who occupied the best sofa in the cabin, and, although evidently convalescent, commanded the principal attendance of the stewardess, while she graciously received the gratuitous services of all who were well enough to render her their homage. She was evidently the great lady of the cabin; and round her couch a knot of gossips had collected, when Flora, followed by Hannah carrying the baby, entered upon the scene. The character of Mrs. Dalton formed the topic of conversation. The little old maid was remorselessly tearing it to tatters. “No woman who valued her reputation,” she said, with pious horror in her looks and tone, “would flirt in the disgraceful manner that Mrs. Dalton was doing.” “There is some excuse for her conduct,” remarked a plain but interesting-looking woman, not herself in the early spring of life. “Mrs. Dalton is a West Indian, and has not been brought up with our ideas of refinement and delicacy.” “I consider it no excuse,” cried the other vehemently, glancing up, as the cabin-door opened to admit Flora and her maid, to be sure that the object of her animadversions was not within earshot. “Don’t tell me. She knows, Miss Leigh, very well what she’s about. Is it no crime, think you, to endeavour to attract the attention of Major F.? My dear Madam,” turning to the great lady, who with her head languidly propped by her hand, was eagerly listening to a conversation which so nearly concerned her: “I wonder you can bear so calmly her flirtations with your husband. If it were me now, I should be ready to tear her eyes out. Do speak to the creature, and remonstrate with her on her scandalous conduct.” “Ah, my dear Miss Mann, I am used to these things,” sighed Mrs. F. “No conduct of the Major’s can give me the least uneasiness now. Nor do I think, that Mrs. Dalton is aware that she is trying to seduce the affections of a _married_ man.”