A few passengers, all men, remained on deck to catch the first glimpse of land. Before midnight the man on the lookout made Cape Clear Lighthouse, and the ship ran along the coast of Ireland. CHAPTER II FATHER AND DAUGHTER Jennie slept late that morning, and was finally awakened by the cessation of the motion to which she had been accustomed day and night for the last nine days. She started up and looked out. The ship was at anchor in the fine cove of Cork, and the window of her stateroom commanded the harbor. She knew there was a crowd of people on deck, but she felt no disposition to join them; so after she had washed and dressed her child and herself she sat down and waited until the kind stewardess brought her some breakfast. “Well, here we are at Queenstown,” said the good woman, as she set down the breakfast tray. “Thank you for bringing my breakfast, Mrs. Hopkins. How long will we remain here?” inquired Jennie. “Only a few hours. The bride and groom—Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay, you know—have got off. I know they took their tickets for Liverpool, and here they have got off at Queenstown. Now they will go to London by way of Holyhead.” “Ah,” said Jennie, only because she felt that she must say something. “Very queer, I call it, for gentlemen and ladies to sacrifice their passage money in that way. But when people have more money than they know what to do with they do fling a good deal away, that’s certain.” Jennie began to drink her coffee to avoid the necessity of speaking. She did not think it was queer that the pair should have left the steamer at Queenstown, for she understood very well that Kightly Montgomery dared not face her father at Liverpool. “Are they really off, Mrs. Hopkins?” she inquired at last. “Are you sure they have actually gone?” “Went ashore in the boat half an hour ago. Took all their baggage from the stateroom, but left that which is in the hold—big trunks that must go to Liverpool, where they will claim them at the custom house, when they themselves get there by the mail route,” replied the stewardess. This was a great relief to Jennie. To know that Kightly Montgomery was really gone from the steamer, not to return, gave her a sense of freedom and security which she had not experienced since she had discovered his baleful presence on board. She felt now that she could go freely on the deck and take her child there, and enjoy all the delights of the voyage across the channel and up the Mersey, without the fear of meeting him or his deceived bride. “I do not think, Mrs. Hopkins, that I shall trouble any one to bring my meals to me here after this. I shall go to the public table,” she said. “It would be much better for you, my dear,” the stewardess replied. “And now that I have finished breakfast, I will take baby and go up on deck.” “That will be better for you, too, my dear. Let me help you.”