“Well, massa, I tinks de sun make up he mind to take a look out at us once more,” remarked Vingo, as seated astride a wood-horse, he was making vigorous exertions to take the nautical expression from his young master’s boots.

“Then you have had rather a dark time of it at home here, have you, Vingo? have been rather lonely?”

“Yes, ’deed it has, massa Harry; I ’fraid sometimes dat I lose my self-complexion entirely, and I tinks you not find so much ob me left, if it not for missy’s bright light, dat shine along de way.  Dare not anoder like her, massa; but I dunno as dat’s strange, for de stars not come down to bathe in de ocean ebery day.”

“You are getting sentimental, Vingo,” and an expression of thought stole over Harry’s features, and he remained silent, for he could not bring himself to disclose even to Vingo, his knowledge of the mystery in regard to the fair creature who called him brother.  He could not bear to think that she was not his sister; and yet, had his memory not served him thus, he must have observed how unlike she was to any member of the family.

“Mother, you have looked very thoughtful for the last few days.  I hope that now we are together once more, there is nothing to disturb your happiness,” remarked Harry, as the two sat together on the little promenade ground in front of the house, enjoying the beautiful sunset of a summer’s evening.

“There is nothing which makes me unhappy now, for although ’we know not what a day may bring forth,’ yet I have learned to smile under the most trying dispensations of Providence, knowing that His ways are higher than our ways; but,” and her voice was hushed almost to a whisper, “there has been something upon my mind of late, of which I would make you a confidant, my son.”

There was a pause,—­well did Harry judge of what his mother would speak, and looking into her face, he said,—­“Natalie,—­she is not my sister by birth, yet I shall ever claim her as such; and I know, should she learn that she was of other parentage to-morrow, she would cling to you, mother, as her dearest earthly friend.”

“And for that reason I know she is of noble birth.  But tell me, Harry, can it be that you, who was but a child, remember the circumstance?”

“Yes, mother, I can well remember the infant with the gold bands, and the pretty white dress, all wet with salt water; then were my first ideas of innocency.”

“She has proved a rich blessing to us, and I do not feel that I can ever part with her; but I have been thinking it was selfish, indeed, in keeping her with us, to deprive her of those advantages which would fit her for filling the station which I can plainly see belongs to her.  Not but that she might finish her education at home, for our island can rank among the first in her systems of education, and there are many of our citizens who are recognized by our most literary friends of the continent, as among the first