"My beloved," whispered back Mrs Hallam, "it is our fate. We must bear all this, but our reward will be the more joyful, Julie: it is for your father's sake. Think of it, my child; there is no holier name under heaven to a child than that of father." There was a pause, and then Julia, in a low, sweet voice, whispered: "Mother." The two women stood there alone, seeming to gaze across the bright sea at the distant land. Passengers and sailors passed them, and the officers of the ship hesitated as they drew near about speaking, ending by respecting the reverie in which they seemed to be wrapt, and passing on. But Millicent and Julia Hallam saw neither sea, shore, nor the distant land: before each the face of Robert Hallam, as they had known it last, rose out of, as it were, a mist. And as they gazed into the future, the countenance of Julia seemed full of timid wonder, half shrinking, while that of Millicent grew more and more calm, as her eyes filled with a sweet subdued light, full of yearning to meet once more him who was waiting all those thousand miles away. So intent were they upon their thoughts of the coming encounter, that neither of them noticed the quiet step that approached, and then stopped close at hand. "Yes," said Mrs Hallam aloud, "we must accept our position, my child; better that we should be alone." "Not quite!" Julia started round with a cry of joy, and placed her hands in those of the speaker. "Mr Bayle?" she cried excitedly; "what a surprise!" "You here?" cried Mrs Hallam hoarsely. "Yes," was the reply, given in the calmest, most matter-of-fact, half-laughing way, and as if it were merely a question of crossing a county at home. "Why, you two poor unprotected women, you did not think I meant to let you take this long voyage alone!" Mrs Hallam drew a long breath and turned pale. She essayed to speak, but no words would come, and at last with a spasm seeming to contract her brow, she turned to gaze appealingly at her child. "But you are going back?" said Julia, and she, too, seemed deeply moved. He shook his head, and smiled. "How good--how noble!" she began. "Ah! tut! tut! little pupil; what nonsense!" cried Bayle merrily. "Why, here is Sir Gordon, who has done precisely the same thing." And the old baronet came slowly up, raising his straw hat just as Thisbe came hurriedly on deck to announce the discovery she had made, and found that she was too late. VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER THIRTEEN. NEW FACES--NEW FRIENDS. "You may call it what you like, Mr Tom Porter, but I call it deceit." "No," said Tom, giving his rough head a roll, as he stood with his legs very far apart, looking quite the sailor now, in place of the quiet body-servant of the St James's pantry. "No, my lass, not deceit, reg'lar sea arrangement: sailing under sealed orders. Quite a reg'lar thing."