“We shall be very comfortable here, Neva,” said Mrs. Black, with gayety. “The sea air will bring the roses to your cheeks. I think you’ve not been looking well lately.” “I wish you had told me that we were to go to Yorkshire by sea,” said Neva gravely. “How could I suppose, my dear child, that you cared whether you went by train or by boat?” demanded Mrs. Black, in seeming surprise. “Your dear papa told me once that you were a fine sailor, and I planned this voyage as a little surprise to you--that’s the truth, Neva.” “You are very kind,” said the young girl, “but I would have preferred to know it beforehand. My friends will be anxious about me if I do not write as soon as I promised.” “Your friends?” and Mrs. Black arched her brows. “Are we not your friends?” “You are, madam, I trust, but you are not my only friend. I leave those behind me who are dear to me, and who have a right to know my movements.” Mrs. Black looked significantly down upon the great diamond that sparkled in limpid splendor upon Neva’s finger. She had noticed the jewel before, but had refrained from alluding to it. “Is that ring the gift of one who has a right to know your movements?” she asked, smiling. Neva blushed, but gravely assented. “It is from Rufus Black?” asked the elder lady, well knowing to the contrary. “No, madam,” said Neva bravely, “it is the gift of Lord Towyn, and is the emblem of our betrothal.” Mrs. Black bit her lips fiercely, but made no response. There was a hardness in her glittering eyes, and a cruel compression of her lips, that boded ill for the engagement thus proclaimed to her. One of the seamen was an excellent cook and steward, and presently a luncheon was spread in the cabin which proved very tempting to appetites sharpened by sea air. Mrs. Artress had provided such an abundance of delicate stores that a cook was scarcely required. There were tin boxes of assorted biscuits, jars of pickles, boxes of fruits of every kind attainable in Covent Garden market, dried and crystalized fruits, smoked salmon, jerked beef and venison, pickled reindeers’ tongues, and cheeses, cakes and fancy breads in every variety. After the luncheon, the ladies went on deck, Mr. and Mrs. Craven Black paced to and fro, arm in arm, and Neva leaned idly upon the rail, watching the fleeting shores and the frequent sails and steamers, and tried to shake off the shadow of distrust and gloom that would creep over her soul. At six o’clock, dinner was served in the cabin. This second meal resembled the one that had preceded, but there were also roast beef, roast fowls, and vegetables, and wines. The swinging lamp was lighted in the cabin, which looked as comfortable as a yacht cabin can be made to look. There is, at best, a dreariness about a ship’s cabin or state-room which no art can conquer. And this cabin was no exception to the rule. Neva was glad to throw a shawl around her and go out again upon the deck.