"Yes, for Boston! You see, Stowe, Mr. Byrne has heard how dull freights are here, and I have just got a letter from him by Gidding's, of the Duxbury, just arrived, in which he says--or I'll read that part--hum--let's see--oh--'if you have not already engaged a freight, you will immediately sail for Boston. I have an excellent opportunity to charter the Gentile for a China voyage; and I suppose you had as lief go to India again as to Russia.' Bless me if I hadn't! So, my dear fellow, if any of those higgling shippers apply to you, tell 'em to go to the devil with their ha'penny freights. Come, ride down street with me; Gidding's has some letters for you. Good morning, Miss Ellen! Morning, Frank! get well mighty fast, for we must use you a little, you know; and see Langley, and tell him to go aboard immediately after dinner." "Ay, ay, sir. Come, Ellen, let's walk into the garden and find William and Mary." We were very soon in the garden, sauntering along a little alley shaded by orange trees. "It seems to me," said Ellen, half pouting, "that you are mightily pleased about sailing next Friday, instead of staying in Matanzas a week longer." "Why, yes," I replied, "I must say that I am glad to go home, after an absence of eighteen months." "I wish I was going to dear old Boston," added Ellen, sighing. "You are to go this fall, you know." "Maybe so; but then, Frank, you will not be there, will you?" "Why, no," I replied, "not if I go with the ship to India; but what difference will that make?" Ellen made no answer, and I began to feel rather queer, and marvelously inclined to make love. I had always liked Ellen very much, and lately better than ever, but, being a novice in such matters, I was in doubt whether my predilection was really _bona fide_ love or not; it didn't seem like the love I had read about in novels; and yet I felt very miserable at the idea of Ellen's loving anybody else. I was in a desperate quandary. "Well," said Ellen, after the lapse of a quarter of an hour, "pray what can be the subject of your thoughts?" I am frank by nature as well as by name; and so, turning to my fair inquisitor, I said, "you know, Ellen, that I am very young yet." "Yes, Frank." "And that people at my age very often do not know their own minds." "Yes, Frank." "Well, Ellen, I think _now_ that I love you very dearly; and if I were five years older, and felt as I now do, and you were willing, I would marry you right away; but I am young, and may be deceived, and so may deceive you. Now, Ellen, if I should ask you if you loved me, would you tell me?" "Yes, Frank," said Ellen, very faintly. "And do you?" I asked; and, like Brutus, paused for a reply. "Yes, Frank, I like you very much." "Is that all? _Like_, is a very cold word. Do you love me?" "Yes, Frank," whispered Ellen, leaning her forehead against my shoulder. "I _think_ I do; _you_ wouldn't say any more than that."