You may smile, reader, if you will, but you would not smile if you had seen the soul yearning in the eyes of the man, if you had heard the pleading in the sad sincerity of his tone. He was fifty years old now, and I dare say a woman's ribbon had never touched him till then. He was wrinkled and gray, and old to look upon, but his heart in its tender sentiment was as fresh and young as a boy's. So, with the ribbons fluttering on his cheek, and his boat drifting as it would, John Chidlaw listened to the story of the woman's life, and as Desdemona loved the Moor for the dangers he had passed, so he loved her for the sorrows she had borne. "Yes, Captain," she says, "my troubles is over now, pretty much. I've been a widder this ten year,"--(he hitched a little closer,)--"I 've been a widder, and I 've had peace o' mind, and I 've laid up money; but, law me when a body has nobody to lay up for, what 's the use?" "Sure enough, what is the use on 't?" says John. "Why, it's no use," she answers; "it's wanity and wexation! that's what it is!" "Wanity and wexation!" he repeats. And then she says, if anybody had ever showed a warm heart toward her, she 'd 'a' been a different woman to what she is. "A different woman!" says John. "How different to what you be?" He could not conceive of the possibility of a difference for the better. "Why, I would 'a' been ten year younger and ten year smarter," says the widow, "and then may be somebody might 'a' took a notion to me! Who knows? We women never cease to hope, you know!" "And hev n't they, as 't is?" says John, eagerly bending toward her. "What a saucy Captain you are, to ask me such questions!"--and she put him gently back with her white hand. "But here we are almost ashore!"--and she began gathering up her band-boxes and paper parcels with great energy. "I thought you said you was a-goin' to take my advice?" says John, with a soft reproach in his voice. "Did I? O, then I will!" she answers, with the most innocent air possible, and leaning quite across his knee to replace one of her boxes. "What is your adwice, now? But you must bear in mind the walue of the welwets. I 've one bonnet in the lot, of a wermilion color, that's worth a wast deal; and you know welwet, when it 's once wet, looks just like a drownded cat. No dressing can make anything of it. Some ladies wears it, but _my_ ladies does n't." "I never knew clouds look like them," says John, "when it did n't pour; and, if you take my adwice, you 'll stay just where you be." "I 'll take your adwice," says the widow, touching his hand lightly with her soft fingers, and smiling upon him with that unpremeditated coquetry that always makes a woman charming. It was especially charming to this man, for no woman had ever smiled upon him like that; and then to think she had asked and accepted his advice, withal! It was enough to turn his head, and it did.