Thisbe impatiently dashed a tear from her eyes, the reason for whose coming she would not own; and then she stopped short, wondering at the presence of a couple of officers, where she had left Mrs Hallam and Julia, for, from some reason best known to himself, Philip Eaton, of His Majesty's --th Foot, was resting his arms where Julia had rested hers, and Captain Otway, in command of the draft on its way out to Port Jackson, had involuntarily taken Mrs Hallam's place. "Looking for your ladies?" said Eaton. "Yes. What have you done with--I mean where are they?" "One moment," said the lieutenant in a confidential manner, as he slipped his hand into his pocket, "just tell me--" He stopped astonished, for as she saw the motion of the young man's hand, and heard his insinuating words, Thisbe gave vent to a sound best expressed by the word "Wuff!" but which sounded exceedingly like the bark of some pet dog, as she whisked herself round and searched the deck before once more going below. "Another of them," she muttered between her teeth. "Handsome as handsome, and ready to lay traps for my darling. But I'm not going to have her made miserable. I'm a woman now; I was a weak, watery, girlish thing then. I'm not going to have her life made a wreck." Thisbe went below, little thinking that it would be a week before she again came on deck. The weather turned bad that night, and the customary miseries ensued. It was so bad that the captain was glad that he had to run into Plymouth, but no sooner was he there than the weather abated, tempting him forth again to encounter a terrible gale off the Lizard, and more or less bad weather till they were well across the Bay of Biscay, and running down the west coast of Spain, when the weather changed all at once. The sky cleared, the sun came out warm and bright, the sea went down, and one by one the wretched passengers stole on deck. Among them, pale and depressed by the long confinement in the cabins, Mrs Hallam and Julia were ready to hurry on deck to breathe the sweet, pure air. "And is that distant shore Spain?" said Julia wonderingly, as she gazed at the faint grey line at which every eye and glass was being directed. "Yes, Julie," said Mrs Hallam more cheerfully, "sunny Spain." "And it seems just now that we were gazing at dear old England," said Julia, with a sigh. "Yes," said Mrs Hallam, grasping her hand with feverish energy, "but now we are so many hundred miles nearer to him who is waiting our coming, Julie. Let us count the miles as he is counting the minutes before he can take his darling to his heart. Julie, my child, we must put the past behind us; it is the future for which we must live." "Forget the past?" said Julia mournfully. "It was such a happy time." "For you, Julie, but for me one long agonising time of waiting." "Dearest mother," whispered Julia, pressing her hand, and speaking quickly, "I know--I know, and I will try so hard not to be selfish."