“It is the same thing, arises from the same thing, Hagar; but conquer it, my dear. Come, Hagar, you love Raymond—long months ago you promised him your hand—you were miserable whenever he left the Hall, even for his northern school; you will be wretched when once he has left the shores of the United States—you will nearly die. I know something of that despair, Hagar,” said she, trembling; then suddenly stopped, as though frightened at her own words. “You, Sophie; why, who ever left you?” “Hush, my love, hush!” said Sophie, growing very pale. “Ah!” thought Hagar to herself, “see how she loved _Rosalia_.” “Come, Hagar, let me recall Raymond—he loves you, he deserves you—come, Hagar,” said Sophie, laying her hand on the dark girl’s arm and looking up into her face pleadingly, as though _she_ were the child, and Hagar the woman. But the girl shook her head; that last incident in the conversation, as she understood it, was not a propitious one. A few days rapidly slid away, and the morning of Raymond’s departure arrived. It was a very rainy day. His trunks had been corded, and were carried down to the beach, to await the passing of the packet in which he was to sail. Breakfast was over; and Sophie, Hagar, and Raymond were standing at the window that overlooked the bay. Raymond held a spy-glass in his hand, which Hagar would sometimes take from him and level at a distant object, and Raymond would watch, momentarily hoping, expecting, that she would drop a whisper, even at this last moment, and say, “Stay, Raymond.” But she did not. He thought her fingers quivered slightly as she returned him the spy-glass, and that her voice faltered as she said, “There is the vessel in sight, Raymond; look and see if it be not.” It was the packet. “Now she will relent,” he said to himself. The packet bore rapidly down the bay. “Good-by, dearest Sophie, _petite belle mère_,” said he, drawing Sophie to his bosom, and kissing her brow with an assumption of gay indifference. “God bless and prosper you, Raymond—God send you back to us, healthful in body, soul, and spirit—good-by, poor, dear Raymond—I am so sorry you are going again!” and Sophie sank down in the corner of the sofa, bowed her head, and sobbed. “Now she _will_ relent,” smiled Raymond to himself, as he went to Hagar, held out his arms, and said, “Farewell, love! farewell, dear, hard Hagar!” “I am going down to the beach with you,” said she.