“Sit down, Miss Fountain, and I will tell you what you have done for my brother. I did not court this, you know; I would have avoided your eye if I could; it is your doing.” “Yes, Miss Dodd,” faltered Lucy, “and I should do it again. I have a right to inquire after his welfare who saved my life.” “Well, then, Miss Fountain, his saving your life has lost him his ship and ruined him for life.” “Oh!” “He came in sight of the ship; but the captain, that was jealous of him like all the rest, made all sail and ran from him: he chased her, and often was near catching her, but she got clear out of the Channel, and my poor David had to come back disgraced, ruined for life, and broken-hearted. The Company will never forgive him for deserting his ship. His career is blighted, and all for one that never cared a straw for him. Oh, Miss Fountain, it was an evil day for my poor brother when first he saw your face!” Eve would have said more, for her heart was burning with wrath and bitterness, but she was interrupted. Lucy raised both her hands to Heaven, and then, bowing her head, wept tenderly and humbly. A woman's tears do not always affect another woman; but one reason is, they are very often no sign of grief or of any worthy feeling. The sex, accustomed to read the nicer shades of emotion, distinguishes tears of pique, tears of disappointment, tears of spite, tears various, from tears of grief. But Lucy's was a burst of regret so sincere, of sorrow and pity so tender and innocent that it fell on Eve's hot heart like the dew. “Ah! well,” she cried, “it was to be, it was to be; and I suppose I oughtn't to blame you. But all he does for you tells against himself, and that does seem hard. It isn't as if he and you were anything to one another; then I shouldn't grudge it so much. He has lost his character as a seaman.” “Oh dear!” “He valued it a deal more than his life. He was always ready to throw THAT away for you or anybody else. He has lost his standing in the _service.”_ “Oh!” “You see he has no interest, like some of them; he only got on by being better and cleverer than all the rest; so the Company won't listen to any excuses from him, and, indeed, he is too proud to make them.” “He will never be captain of a ship now?” “Captain of a ship! Will he ever leave the bed of sickness he lies on?” “The bed of sickness! Is he ill? Oh, what have I done?” “Is he ill? What! do you think my brother is made of iron? Out all night with you--then off, with scarce a wink of sleep; then two days and two nights chasing the _Combermere,_ sometimes gaining, sometimes losing, and his credit and his good name hanging on it; then to beat back against wind, heartbroken, and no food on board--” “Oh, it is too horrible.”