"I can't come here to take possession of your house," he had said, addressing himself to his future father-in-law; "that would be rather too much of a good thing. I know you'd like to keep Rosy in the neighbourhood, and so you shall. I'll do as you did. I'll find a little bit of ground near here, and build myself a comfortable crib, with a view of the river." "Stuff and nonsense!" replied Captain Duncombe. "If that's what you are going to do, you shall not have my Rosy. I've no objection to her having a husband on the premises; but the day she leaves my roof for the sake of any man in Christendom, I'll cut her off with a shilling--and the shilling shall be a bad one." The captain of the "Albatross" took his young wife into Devonshire for a brief honeymoon; and during this pleasant spring-time holiday, Rosamond made the acquaintance of her husband's aunt. Susan Jernam was pleased with the bright-eyed, pure-minded, modest girl, and in the few days they were together, learned to regard her with a motherly feeling, which was destined to be of priceless value to Rosy at an unforeseen crisis of the new life that began so fairly. Never did a married couple begin their new life with a fairer prospect than that which lay before George Jernam and his wife when they returned to River View Cottage. Captain Duncombe received his son-in-law with the hearty welcome of a true seaman; but a few days after George Jernam's return, the old sailor took him aside, and made an announcement which filled him with surprise. "You know how fond I am of Rosy," he said, "and you know that if Providence had blessed me with a son of my own, he couldn't have been much dearer to me than you are; so come what may, neither you or Rosy must doubt my affection for both of you. Come now, George, promise me you won't." "I promise, with all my heart," answered Captain Jernam; "I should no more think of doubting your goodness or your love for us, than I should think of doubting that there's a sun shining up aloft yonder. But why do you speak of this?" "Because, George, the truth of the matter is, I'm going to leave you." "You are going to leave us?" "Yes, old fellow. You see, a lazy, land-lubber's life doesn't suit me. I've tried it, and it don't answer. I thought the sound of the water washing against the bank at the bottom of my garden, and the sight of the ships in the Pool, would be consolation enough for me, but they ain't, and I've been sickening for the sea for the last six mouths. As long as my little Rosy had nobody in the world but me to take care of her, I stayed with her, and I should have gone on staying with her till I died at my post. But she's got a husband now, and two trust-worthy women-servants, who would protect her if you left her--as I suppose you must leave her, sooner or later--so there's no reason why I should stop on shore any longer, pining for a sight of blue water."