“And if it should so happen that you should not obtain a passage in the Sea Mew, Madam, the Petrel will sail in a week, and I should be very glad to have you, and could make you passably comfortable in my cabin.” “I thank you, Miss Brande; and indeed, but for the great haste I am in, I should much prefer to go with you. By the way, shall you stop at the Headland on your way down the Bay?” “In any case, _yes_, Madam, I shall be obliged to do so.” “Then if I am there in advance of you, I shall be happy to receive you.” “I thank you, Madam—now, indeed, I must hasten away. Good-day, Madam.” “Good-day, Miss Brande.” And declining Susan’s attendance, Barbara and her brother retired. “Now, Susan, we must have all things in readiness, in case, as I expect, we shall be able to obtain a passage on the Sea Mew. Pack up my trunks at once, girl, and afterward we can attend to those out-door matters.” Susan obeyed, and the afternoon was so well spent in preparation, that when at sunset Willful Brande presented himself with the information that the lady and her attendant could have a berth in the Sea Mew, coupled with a request that they would come on board that night, because the vessel was to sail with the first tide in the morning, he found them in readiness to depart. Willful Brande, by his sister’s directions, offered his services to assist, called a carriage, helped the travelers into it, and after seeing them off, remained behind to load and bring the dray with their baggage. Barbara met her new friend on the wharf, and accompanied her on board the Sea Mew. They found the skipper, a bluff, hearty, gallant old sailor, waiting on the deck. He received his lady passenger with studied politeness, and handed her down into a comfortable cabin. And Barbara having seen the lady and her attendant fairly installed, took leave of them with the promise to stop at the Headland on her way down the Bay. In another hour, Willful Brande arrived with the dray containing the luggage, which was conveyed on board and stowed away. And the next morning, at sunrise, the Sea Mew, having on board Lady Montressor and her maid, sailed for Havana. The wind was fresh and fair, the weather fine, the water scenery grand, the whole circumstances animating, as holding out the prospect of a quick and pleasant voyage. The lady and her attendant were accommodated with a state-room in the captain’s cabin; that state-room had, through the care of Barbara, been neatly arranged—the berths covered with white counterpanes, and the window hung with a white muslin curtain. The cabin, through the courtesy of Captain Brewster, was given up almost exclusively to the use of his passengers. But the sad Estelle passed the most of her time, both by day and by night, in sitting by the window of her state-room, looking out upon the heaving sea.