By Berwen Banks

During the next few weeks, Cardo Wynne was generally to be seen pacing

the deck of the Burrawalla, playing with the children or chatting

with some of the passengers. He walked up and down, with his hands

sunk deep in his pockets, and cap tied firmly under his chin, for there

was a pretty stiff breeze blowing, which developed later on in the

voyage into the furious gales and storms which made that autumn so

memorable for its numerous wrecks and casualties. Cardo was a great

favourite on board, his frank and genial manner, the merry twinkle of

his eye, and his tender politeness to the very old or the very young

had won all hearts. With good-natured cheerfulness he entered into the

plans and pastimes of the youthful part of the community, so that he

had made a favourable impression upon all, from the cabin boy to the

captain, and from the old general, who seldom left his berth, to the

big black retriever, who was making his third voyage with his master to

the Antipodes.

"Always a pleasant smile on his face when you speak to him," said one

of the ladies to a friend one day; "but I think he has a rather sad

look sometimes, when he is pacing up and down with his hands in his

pockets."

"Yes," said the other, with a sentimental air, "I wonder what he is

thinking of at those times! I'll make love to the captain, and see if

I can find out something about him, they seem very intimate. We must

try and cheer him up, dear."

"He doesn't seem to want much cheering up now," said her friend, as

Cardo passed them with two other young men, who were enjoying a story

told by one of them, Cardo's merry laugh being loudest and heartiest of

the three. But--there was a sober, wistful look on his face sometimes

which was not habitual to it, and as the days slipped on, he might

often be seen, leaning over the side of the vessel with an anxious

pucker on his forehead.

The parting with Valmai had, of course, been a trying ordeal. With the

fervour of a first and passionate love, he recalled every word she had

spoken, every passing shade of thought reflected on her face, and while

these reveries occupied his mind, there was a tender look in the deep

black eyes and a smile on his lips. But these pleasant memories were

apparently often followed by more perplexing thoughts. One afternoon

he had been standing for some time lost in a dream, while he looked

with eyes that saw nothing over the heaving waters to the distant

horizon, when the captain's voice at his elbow recalled him to his

surroundings.

"You are looking at the very point of the wind, the very eye of the

storm."