"He has been terrifying and electrifying you again with his tale of horrors--there, it is all out. Why, he is as sensational as 'Jane Eyre,' this new English novel I am just reading," drawing it from under her pillow and holding it aloft as she spoke. "Currer Bell is not more mysteriously awful, but Garth is not artistic. I detected his intention by the inconsistency of his expression of face, which bore no part in his narrative, and at once exposed him, you must remember--" "Oh, yes--but this time--" "Nonsense, Miriam Harz! the iceberg is gone, I know. Why, what a nervous coward you are, to be sure, with all that assumed bravery! I am twice as courageous, I do believe, despite appearances; I really begin to be of opinion that it is safer to be at sea than on land--now what do you think of that for a heterodoxy?--A second cup? why, of course, and a third, if you want it; I am delighted you like it. These little Sevres toys are but thimbles, but I always carry them about with me by sea and land, and have for years; I feel as if there were luck in them, not one of the original three has been broken--there--there!--just as I was boasting, too!--never mind, such accidents _will_ occur; but your pretty pongee dress is sadly stained with the coffee; besides, as _you_ dropped the cup, it is _your_ luck, not mine; and I want an odd saucer, anyhow, to feed Desiree out of; she sleeps in that willow basket you see in the corner of the state-room, Miss Harz, and is lazy, like her mistress, of mornings.--Desiree! Desiree! peep out, can't you, now you have your long-desired Sevres saucer to lap milk from?--She won't touch delft, Miss Harz. She is the most fastidious little creature!" "Alas! alas!" and I groaned aloud. "Not taking on about that silly cup, I hope--no; what can it be then, a megrim? No. Well, I can't imagine any thing worse, to save my life. Here, let me read you this, it is fine--it is where Jane Eyre feels herself deserted, and this comparison about 'the dried-up channel of a river' thrills one. Just hear it;" and she was about commencing-- "Not now--not now, Miss Lamarque; stern realities demand our attention. Lay your book aside, be calm, be firm, but listen to me seriously. Christian Garth informs me, nor he alone--my own eyes have done the rest--that the cotton in the hold has taken fire from the lightning yesterday; has been slowly smouldering ever since the mast was struck--and that the ship's hours are numbered!" "O God! O God!" and she bowed her head upon her clasped and quivering hands. "But, Captain Ambrose--he did not tell you so?" looking up suddenly. "Christian Garth, indeed! his impudence is surprising--another hoax, I suppose," and she tried to smile; "such a coarse creature, too!" "We shall see, but for the present say nothing; only get up and dress as quickly as you can, but it is important to be very quiet, for fear of causing confusion. I have promised discretion."