“Yes, that is a good plan——Look at that fine creature!” exclaimed Lord Dazzleright, suddenly breaking off and pointing to a young woman in a gray serge dress, who was just coming up the starboard gangway. It was Barbara Brande, who was looking in high health and beauty. No adventitious arts of the toilet lent their aid to this brave and gentle daughter of the ocean—a gown, a large sacque and hood, all of dark gray, comprised her outside garments. But the hood was rolled back, revealing the handsome, spirited face, with its bands of shining, jet-black hair, parted and rippling in waves down each side of her broad forehead and damask cheeks, and the strong, flashing black eyes, that at a glance seemed to take in the whole deck with every detail thereon. “Willful! call the hands up to haul in freight,” were her first words of command, delivered in her own clear, ringing, resonant voice. As the boy sprang to obey, Barbara walked aft to receive her visitors. “You perceive that I render myself according to promise, Miss Brande,” said Lord Montressor. “I am happy to see you again, sir.” “This is my friend, Lord Dazzleright,” said Lord Montressor, presenting his companion. “How do you do, sir?” said Barbara, then breaking off suddenly, before Dazzleright could get off his handsomely-turned reply, she called out—“Boys, look alive there! You will not get the freight in to-day at this rate! Willful! take the little boat and go ashore to hurry those watermen with those other bales. Paul, bear a hand there! Now, gentlemen, I am at your service! What can I do for you?” she inquired, turning to her visitors to give them her full attention. But Lord Dazzleright felt piqued and turned away. Evidently the handsome creature, the child of the sea, cared no more for this Baron of the Exchequer, this brilliant conversationist, this lion of the London salons—in a word, for this Lord Dazzleright, than she did for any other honest man! Here was an unsophisticated savage. What did the young woman mean? he asked himself. Had she eyes? Had she sense? While Lord Dazzleright sulked at being unconsciously snubbed by the handsome Amazon, Lord Montressor opened his business. First he told her that the Court of Arches had established the L’Orient marriage. Barbara bowed—she had expected as much. “Consequently,” he went on to say, “Sir Parke and myself go to America to find Estelle.” “That is right,” Barbara answered. “Can Miss Brande give us a passage to Baltimore?” “Yes, with pleasure.” “Will you also give the address of Estelle?” “No, as that would be a breach of confidence; but I will go to the lady and entreat her permission to inform you.” Lord Montressor smiled, and said that would do. The arrangements for the passage of Sir Parke Morelle, of himself, and a single servant for each, were forthwith completed.