By Berwen Banks

"Handsome?"

"Yes, handsome, with sparkling black eyes, and--and--oh, very handsome!

and they loved each other truly, and--and--"

"Yes, yes! skip that. Ay know that. Go on."

"You can imagine that the poor lonely girl gave all her heart to her

lover, as there was no one else who cared for it; and so the days were

going by, and they were all in all to each other. But he had a stern,

morose father, and she had a cold and selfish uncle; and these two men

hated each other with a deadly hatred, just like a story book."

"Yes, Ay know," said the old man; "like Romeo and Juliet, you know."

"Perhaps, indeed," said Valmai; "but anyway, they dare not tell anyone

of their love, for they knew that the old father would never agree to

their being married, and the young man was very fond of his father,

although he was so dark and dour. At last, suddenly, he told his son

that he wanted him to go a long way off on business for him, and,

wishing to please him, he agreed to go."

"More fool he!" said the captain. "Ay wouldn't 'a gone."

"But he promised, and he hoped that when he had given his father this

proof of his love, he would give his consent to his marriage."

"Was he rich?"

"Yes, rather, I think."

"Well, why in the name of common sense didn't he defy his tarnished old

father, and marry the girl he liked?"

"You'll see, uncle; wait a minute. The days passed on, and their

parting was drawing near, and the nearer it came the more miserable

they were; and at last the lover begged his sweetheart to marry him, so

that he might feel, when he was far away, that she was really his wife

whatever might happen. Well, they were married the very morning on

which he left; married in an old, deserted church by a young clergyman,

who was a good and true friend to them."

"A jolly nice man he must have bin!"

"Yes, indeed, he was."

"You are making it all up in your head, Ay know. But what did they do

next?"

"Well, as soon as they were married, they kissed and said good-bye with

breaking hearts."

"Oh, dash it!" said the captain, "Ay'd have managed it better than

that, anyhow."

"But they didn't. The bridegroom sailed away, for the country he was

going to was miles and miles and miles over the sea, and the poor bride

was left at home with her sorrow. But soon afterwards she went to live

with another relation, a dear old man--the best, the kindest, the

tenderest, the jolliest old man in the world. In fact, he had only one

fault, and that was that he sometimes used a bad word."