That morning, when Mrs Hallam took her old place by the bulwarks to gaze away into the distance, out of which the land she sought was to rise, Julia came to a determination, and, waiting her opportunity, she watched till Bayle had taken his place where he sat and read, and Sir Gordon was in his usual seat. For, on ship-board, the nature of the vessel's management seems to communicate itself to the passengers. As they have special berths, so do they adopt special seats at the cabin table, and, when on deck, go by custom to regular places after their morning walk beneath the breeze-filled sails. Sir Gordon was in his seat, and Tom Porter on his way with a cigar and light, when Julia intercepted him, took them from him, and walked up to Sir Gordon. "Hullo!" he said shortly. "You?" "Yes! I've brought you your cigar and light." She held them out, and the old man took them, and lit the cheroot with all the careful dallying of an old smoker. "Thankye," he said shortly; but Julia did not leave him, only stood looking down at the wrinkles of age and annoyance in the well-bred face. "Well!" he said, "what are you waiting for, my child?" His voice was a little softer as the wreaths of smoke rose in the soft southern air. "I want to talk to you," she said, looking at him wistfully. "Sit down, then. Ah, there's no chair, and--where is our gay young officer to fetch one?" Julia did not answer, but gazed up in his face as she seated herself upon the deck by his low lounge chair. "Why do you speak to me so unkindly?" she said, with a naive innocency of manner that made the old man wince and cease smoking. "Unkindly?" he said at last. "Yes," said Julia. "You have been so different. You are not speaking to me now as you used." The old man frowned, looked from the upturned face at his side to where Mrs Hallam was gazing out to sea, and back again. "Because I'm growing old and am chilly, and pettish, and jealous, my dear," he said at last warmly. "Julia!" he cried searchingly, "tell me; do you love this Lieutenant Eaton?" The girl's face grew crimson, and her eyes flashed a look of resentment as she rose quickly to her feet. "No, no! don't go, my dear," he cried; but it was too late even if the words could have stayed her. Julia was walking swiftly away, and Lieutenant Eaton, who was coming back from a morning parade of the company, increased his pace on seeing Julia, but she turned aside and walked towards Bayle. "Yes, but if I had not just spoken to her," muttered Sir Gordon, "she would have stopped. Well, it is only natural, and I had no business to speak--no business to trouble myself about her. Tom Porter says the old maid is bitterly mad about it, and declares the poor child is going to wreck her life as her mother did. The old cat! How dare she think such a thing! The impudence! Wishes the ship may be wrecked first and that we may all be drowned. Ah! you're there, are you, sir?" "Yes, Sir Gordon. Another cheroot?"