A man had been sent for Ross Kingman, and before tea was over, the skipper of the yacht arrived. Dick, after charging Eugene not to mention to her brother the scheme for healing Mary’s wounds, went out with Mrs. Hungerford and Julia to walk in the grounds around the house. He preferred to manage this business himself, fearful that Eugene, in his excited state of mind, might make some mistake, and thus defeat his own kind intentions. “I am glad to see you, Ross,” said Eugene. “Thank you, Mr. Hungerford; it does me good to see your face once more,” replied Ross, grasping the offered hand of Eugene. “The yacht is finished, sir, and if you will take my word for it, she is a beauty.” “I have no doubt of it.” “I have been out in her several times. She has made twelve knots with the wind free, and nine close-hauled. She works as handy as a skiff, and behaves like a lady, in a sea.” “I dare say,” added Eugene, rather coldly. “Mr. Birch attended to fitting up the cabins; and they are as handsome as your parlor.” “I have no doubt she is everything I could wish.” “There was one thing you forgot, and that was, a name for her.” “We will attend to that at another time. Ross, how is Mary?” “Well, she is improving. She walked out to-day, but she feels very bad.” “Poor girl!” sighed Eugene. “I have cried more within a month than I ever did in the same time when I was a baby. You have no idea, Mr. Hungerford, how she took on when I first saw her. I was afraid she would go crazy.” “Poor Mary!” was all Eugene could say. “I brought her home as soon as I could, and I have staid with her most of the time since. She is my own sister, you know, and she sets a great deal by me, and I do by her. She don’t like to have me away from her.” “I will not keep you long, Ross.” “O! she don’t mind a few hours at a time.” “What does she say about Mr. Buckstone?” “Nothing; not a word. Mary is a Christian, if there is one in the world, and she won’t even let me abuse him.” Ross clinched his fists and grated his teeth. He indulged in a few expletives, which seemed to relieve his mind; but it was evident that it would not be safe to let the outraged brother see the artist. “Where is Mr. Buckstone, now?” “I don’t know; it is lucky for him I do not,” replied Ross, fiercely. “Don’t do anything rash, if you should meet him, Ross,” continued Eugene, impressed by the savage tones and the mischievous looks of the young man. “Mr. Hungerford, it’s no use to talk to me about this matter; if I should see the villain, I would tear him in pieces! I would pull out his heart, if I had to be hanged for it the next minute!” “Don’t you touch him, Ross.” “If I saw him, I couldn’t help it. Why, the scoundrel did not even marry her! He cheated her!” “You are not sure of that.” “I am sure of it.” “What is your evidence?” “He told her so himself.” “He was intoxicated and angry then.” “Why did he desert her, just as she was about to become a mother?”