Their first halting place was Genoa, where they waited letters from Le. The letters arrived at length, bringing good news. Le was assigned to the man-of-war _Eagle_, bound for the Mediterranean! Bound direct for Genoa! Then, in perfect content, they settled down for the winter. The earl’s health was certainly improving in the mild air of sunny Italy, and his spirits were rallying in the society of his relatives, so he also decided to remain in Genoa. Before the end of November the _Eagle_ was in port, and Midshipman Force hastened to see his friends at their house on the Strada Balbi. He had been absent only seven weeks, yet they received him with as much joy as though they had not seen him for seven years. As long as his ship lay at anchor in the harbor his friends remained in the Strada Balbi. And whenever he could get a day or a half day off he came to them. When the _Eagle_ sailed for Nice the family left Genoa for the same city, and took up their quarters at the Hotel de la Paix, and the same pleasant intercourse was resumed. And so the winter passed. And Mr. Force was beginning to contemplate the possibility of having his daughter freed from a merely nominal and most unfortunate marriage. To do this it would be necessary, according to his ideas of honor, that they should return to the state and the parish where the marriage ceremony had been nearly performed, but was finally interrupted. But there was no hurry, he thought. Le was on the Mediterranean, and his duty would keep him there for two or three years longer. There was another source of occasional uneasiness—the political condition of the United States. Ever since the presidential election, in November, dissatisfaction had spread in certain sections of the country, and trouble seemed to be brewing. All this, coming through the newspapers to the knowledge of the absentees, gave them disturbance, but really not much, so thoroughly confident were they all in the safety of the Union, and the grand destiny of the republic. The clouds on the political horizon would vanish, and all would be well. No harm could come to the country, which was the Lord’s City of Refuge for the oppressed of all the world. They had heard not a word from or of Angus Anglesea since the Washington detective had traced him to Canada, and there lost him. Le privately and most earnestly hoped that the villain had got himself sent to some State prison for life, or, well, hanged—which the midshipman thought would have been even better. At least, however, the family he had wronged so deeply seemed now to be well rid of him. But Le expressed a strong wish that his uncle would return to Maryland in the spring and have Odalite entirely freed by the law from the bond, or rather, the shadow of the bond, that lay so heavily on her life, and on his.