Mabel found her aunt very anxious about her long absence. The baron had gone away some little time before she quitted the drawing-room, so that she knew that Mabel had not gone out to speak to him. She was so thankful, however, at seeing her back, that she did not press her with questions, merely observing: "Since that fearful evening, the commencement of poor Lucy's illness, I have been so nervous, dear, that I am anxious even when you are more than a few minutes absent from me." Mabel, however, had no wish to conceal the fact of her having met Harry Tryon; for she knew that her aunt would sympathise with her in her sorrow. She felt somewhat relieved when she had told her grief; but though the two ladies talked the matter over, they could see no immediate way of extricating Harry from his difficulties. Mabel was for writing at once to Mr. Kyffin. At length she bethought her of her godfather, Mr. Thornborough. "He knows Mr. Kyffin, Harry has told me, and he would be able to intercede both with him and Mr. Coppinger." Many other plans were thought of and discussed. The two ladies, however, agreed to wait till the following morning before they settled the one they would adopt. CHAPTER FOURTEEN. MANNING THE NAVY IN THE OLD TIME. Often during the night, as Harry lay on Widow Tuttle's spare truckle bed, he repented him of his resolution to start off immediately to sea. Common sense said, "Wait till you can hear from your kind guardian, or still better, till you have had an interview with him. Explain the state of the case clearly to Mr. Coppinger, acknowledging that you were drunk, and put your name to papers with the contents of which you were not acquainted. Let him know that Silas Sleech is a consummate hypocrite, and in all probability a thorough rogue. Brave the worst. Surely nothing can be so bad as running away, and leaving your name and credit and character in the hands of such a fellow as Sleech, who has acknowledged himself your enemy, and who will, like his master--Satan-- if you bravely face him, succumb before you." Then rose up again Harry's desire to go to sea, his dislike of having to acknowledge his weakness and folly to Mr. Coppinger, and his doubts whether his uncle would believe his statements. Sleep scarcely visited his eyelids. He was just dozing off when he heard Tuttle's rough voice exclaiming-- "Turn out there, mate, we'll have some breakfast, and then be off before the sun's up. We have a long voyage before us, and only our own legs to depend on." Harry had wished to go to Portsmouth by sea.