"I don't know," she replied; "but you have grown more and more changed. I have seen so little of you lately, and you have avoided me." "But you have not been dull. You have had many companions and friends." "Yes," she said quickly, "and they have been so kind; but I have seemed to regret the past days when we were all so quiet and happy together." "Hush!" he said quickly. "Don't speak like that." "Not speak like that? There, now you are angry with me again." "Angry? No, no, my child," cried Bayle, whose voice trembled with emotion. "I am not angry with you." "Yes; that's how I like to hear you speak," cried Julia. "That is how you used to speak to me, and not in that grave, measured way, as if you were dissatisfied." "Julia," he said, hoarse with emotion, "how could I be dissatisfied when I see you happy? Has it not been the wish of my life?" "Yes; I have always known it was. Now you make me happy again; and you will always speak so to me?" "Always," he said, with his eyes lighting up with a strange fire. "Always, my child." "That's right," she cried. "That is like my dear old teacher speaking to me again;" and her sweet, ingenuous eyes looked lovingly in his. But they saw no response to their tenderness, for the fire died out of Bayle's gaze, the red spots faded from his cheeks, and an agonising pang made him shudder, and then draw in a long, deep breath. At that moment Lieutenant Eaton approached, and Bayle saw the tell-tale colour come into Julia's cheeks. "It is fate, I suppose," he said, drawing back to give place to Eaton. Julia looked up at him quickly, as if she divined the words he had said to himself; but he did not speak, only smiled sadly, and walked towards where Mrs Hallam was gazing over the side. He shuddered as he thought of the meeting that must take place, and walked up and down slowly, thinking of his position, unheeded by Mrs Hallam, whose face was irradiated by the joy that filled her breast. He turned back to see that Eaton had led Julia to the other side of the vessel, and as she, too, stood with her hands resting on the bulwarks, Bayle could see that the young man's face was bright and animated; that he was talking quickly to the girl, whose head was slightly bent as though she was listening attentively to all he said. Christie Bayle drew a long breath as he walked slowly on. His old, patient, long-suffering smile came upon his face, and now his lip ceased quivering, and he said softly: "If it is for her happiness. Why not?" "And after all I have said," he heard from a quick voice beyond the awning. "It's too bad, Jack. He is proposing to her now. What shall we do?" "Nothing. Let him find all out for himself, and then cool down." "And half break the poor girl's heart? I don't want that."