“Very likely,” answered Mr. Delafield; while the Yankee, now that the ice was broken, continued to ply him with questions, which, though very annoying to the haughty Southerner, tended to relieve in a measure the tediousness of waiting. The sun had long been set and the stars were shining brightly ere they were able to proceed, and it was after midnight when they at last reached Charleston. Driving immediately to the lauding, Mr. Delafield to his great joy found that the steamer bound for New York still lay at the wharf and would not start until morning. But was Rosa Lee on board? That was a question which puzzled him, and as there was no way of satisfying himself until morning, he sat down in one of the state rooms and rather impatiently awaited the dawn of day. * * * * * The hurry—the confusion—and the excitement of starting was over. We were out upon the deep blue sea, and from the window of my state-room I watched the distant shore as it slowly receded from view, and felt that I was leaving the land of sunlight and of flowers. Notwithstanding the fatiguing journey of the previous day, I was better this morning than I had been for many months before, for I had slept quietly through the night. An hour or two after breakfast Charlie came to me with a very peculiar expression on his face and asked me to go upon deck, saying the fresh breeze would do me good. I consented willingly, and throwing on my shawl and a simple Leghorn flat which had been of much service to me at Cedar Grove, and which Mr. Delafield had often said was very becoming, I went out with Charlie, who led me to the rear of the boat, where he said we were not so liable to be disturbed. Seating me upon a small settee he asked to be excused for a few moments, saying I should not be long alone. The motion of the boat produced a slight dizziness in my head, and leaning my elbow upon the arm of the settee I shaded my eyes with my hand and sat lost in thought until I heard the sound of a footstep. “It was Charlie,” I said, so I did not look up, even when he sat down by my side and wound his arm around me, wrapping my shawl closer together, oh, so gently! “Charlie is very tender of me since my sickness,” I thought, and much I loved that he should thus caress me. It thrilled me strangely, bringing back to my mind the night when I sat in the vine-wreathed arbor, where I should never sit again. For a moment there was perfect silence and I could hear the beating of Charlie’s heart. Then leaning forward and removing my hand from my eyes, he pressed a kiss upon my lips and whispered as he did so, “_My own Rose!_” Once, when I was apparently dying, the sound of that voice had called me back to life, and now with a cry of joy I sprang to my feet and turning round, stood face to face with _Richard Delafield_, who, stretching his arms towards me, said, “Come to my bosom, Rose. Henceforth it is your resting-place.”