Now they had time to feel, and bitterly did they lament the loss of their old friend, and deplore that he had not survived to sail with them to Sydney. They had always indulged the hope that one day they should be taken off the island, and in that hope they had ever looked forward to old Ready becoming a part of their future household. Now that their wishes had been granted - so much was the feeling of joy and gratitude mingled with regret - that could he have been restored to them, they felt as if they would have gladly remained on the island. Captain Osborn, the commander, and the crew of the schooner had taken leave of them for the night, and had gone on board, having made arrangements for the interment of Ready, previous to their sailing, on the following day. The children had been put to bed, and Juno had quitted the house; Mr. and Mrs. Seagrave and William were sitting together in their now half-dismantled room, when Juno entered; the poor girl had evidently been weeping. "Well, Juno," observed Mr. Seagrave, with a view to break the silence which had continued for some time previous to her entrance, "are you not glad to leave the island?" "One time I think I would be very glad, but now I not care much," replied Juno. "Island very nice place, all very happy till savage come. Suppose they not kill old Ready, I not care." "Yes, indeed," said Mrs. Seagrave, "it is a sad blow to us all; I did hope to have fostered the good old man, and to have been able to have shown him our gratitude, but--" "It is the will of Heaven that it should be otherwise," continued Mr. Seagrave; "I would give half that I am possessed of, that he had not perished." "Oh, Massa!" said Juno, "I sit by him just now; I take off the flag and look at his face, so calm, look so happy, so good, I almost tink he smile at me, and then I cry. Oh! Massa Tommy, all because you idle boy." "It adds much to my regret," replied Mr. Seagrave, "that his life should have been sacrificed through the thoughtlessness of one of my own children; what a lesson it will be to Tommy when he is old enough to comprehend the consequences of his conduct." "That he must not know, papa," said William, who had been leaning mournfully over the table; "one of Ready's last injunctions was that Tommy was never to be told of it."