“Here's great news, Lucy,” cried he. “The 'Cadmus' troop-ship has put into Cagliari disabled, foremast lost, one paddle-wheel carried away, all the boats smashed, but her Majesty's--th safe and sound. Colonel Cave very jolly, and Major Trafford, if you have heard of such a person, wild with joy at the disaster of being shipwrecked.” “Oh, Tom, do be serious. What is it at all?” said she, as, pale with anxiety, she caught his arm to steady herself. “Here's the despatch,--read it yourself if you won't believe me. This part here is all about the storm and the other wrecks; but here, this is the important part, in your eyes at least. “'Cave is now with me up here, and Trafford is to join us to-night. The ship cannot possibly be fit for sea before ten days to come; and the question is, Shall we go over and visit you, or will you and Lucy come here? One or other of these courses it must be, and it is for you to decide which suits you best. You know as well as myself what a sorry place this is to ask dear Lucy to come to, but, on the other hand, I know nothing as to the accommodation your cottage offers. For my own part it does not signify; I can sleep on board any craft that takes me over; but have you room for the soldiers?--I mean Cave and Trafford. I have no doubt they will be easily put up; and if they could be consulted, would rather bivouac under the olives than not come. At all events, let the boat bring yourselves or the invitation for us,--and at once, for the impatience of one here (I am too discreet to particularize) is pushing my own endurance to its limits.' “Now, Lucy, what's it to be? Decide quickly, for the skipper will be here soon for his answer.” “I declare I don't know, Tom,” said she, faltering at every word. “The cottage is very small, the way we live here very simple: I scarcely think it possible we can ask any one to be a guest--” “So that you opine we ought to go over to Cagliari?” burst he in. “I think _you_ ought, Tom, certainly,” said she, still more faintly. “I see,” said he, dryly, “you 'll not be afraid of being left alone here?” “No, not in the least,” said she; and her voice was now a mere whisper, and she swayed slightly back and forward like one about to faint. “Such being the case,” resumed Tom, “what you advise strikes me as admirable. I can make your apologies to old Sir Brook. I can tell him, besides, that you had scruples on the propriety,--there may be Mrs. Grundys at Cagliari, who would be shocked, you know; and then, if you should get on here comfortably, and not feel it too lonely, why, perhaps, I might be able to stay with them till they sail.” She tried to mutter a Yes, but her lips moved without a sound. “So that is settled, eh?” cried he, looking full at her. She nodded, and then turned away her head.