The day of parting at length came--the last sad day--and the young man remembered his promise to Margaret, that he would see her once more before he departed. He found her at home on the Monday, that very day upon the eve of which he was to take the mail from Ipswich for London. He came to take a long and a last farewell. And why did he torment himself and the poor girl with this last interview? Was it with a lurking hope that he might persuade her to accompany him? He had really and truly prepared for such an event, could he have brought it about. In his chests were presents which his sisters had made at his request, in case he should marry in the new settlement. He had suggested this; but his heart had to the very last a lingering thought that perhaps Margaret might be induced to embark with him. Upon what small last links will not true love depend! "I am come, Margaret, to take my leave of you," said he, on meeting her. "I am going to a colony the farthest off our own dear country of any known island in the world." "Indeed, sir! if so I wish you well, and pray God to bless you!" "Before I go, Margaret," resumed he, "I must tell you that as long as life holds in this poor heart of mine, I shall never love any one else. I may prosper--I may be rich--I may be blessed with abundance--but I shall never be blessed with a wife." "Oh, sir, say not so! you grieve me very much to hear you talk in that way. You are a young man, and the path of life, though it may not be without thorns, has yet many blessed plants for your happiness. Why should you speak so despondingly? Change of place and occupation will make you feel very differently." "You may think it may be so with me, Margaret; but if there be any truth in this last doctrine which you have yourself divulged, it will hold good in yourself as well as in me. If you change your place of abode, and go with me, Margaret, will not you think very differently to what you do now? Oh, that I could persuade you! Oh, that I could induce you to join your lot with mine! Shake off that wild attachment to the smuggler, and go with me. I will marry you to-morrow morning before we sail. I have even hinted the matter to my captain. He has promised to be bridesman, and has even taken out the license, and will be ready to-morrow at ten o'clock. No preparation will be necessary for you: I have prepared everything. Your bridal dress is even ready; and our honeymoon will be kept on board the _Kitty_, which is to sail to-morrow from London. Margaret, hear me! I am sure that your present connexion will end in ruin. What is Will Laud but a desperate fellow who cannot and, believe me, will not protect you? What sacrifice can it be to leave a man who would have taken you away without your consent, for one who, with your consent, will unite all his interests with yours as long as he lives?"