Perhaps she had more reason to be thankful for her humiliation than she could suspect, with her narrow knowledge of the world.  Perhaps that sudden downfall of her fancied queenship was needed, to shut her out, once and for all, from that downward path of spiritual intoxication, followed by spiritual knavery, which, as has been hinted, was but too easy for her.

But meanwhile the whole thing was but a fresh misery.  To bear the burden of Cassandra day and night, seeing in fancy—­which yet was truth—­the black shadow of death hanging over that doomed place; to dream of whom it might sweep off;—­perhaps, worst of all, her mother, unconfessed and impenitent!

Too dreadful!  And dreadful, too, the private troubles which were thickening fast; and which seemed, instead of drawing her mother to her side, to estrange her more and more, for some mysterious reason.  Her mother was heavily in debt.  This ten pounds of Lord Scoutbush’s would certainly clear off the miller’s bill.  Her scanty quarter’s salary, which was just due, would clear off a little more.  But there was a long-standing account of the wholesale grocer’s for five-and-twenty pounds, for which Mrs. Harvey had given a two months’ bill.  That bill would become due early in September:  and how to meet it, neither mother nor daughter knew; it lay like a black plague-spot on the future, only surpassed in horror by the cholera itself.

It might have been three or four days after, that Claude, lounging after breakfast on deck, was hailed from a dingy, which contained Captain Willis and Gentleman Jan.

“Might we take the liberty of coming aboard to speak with your honour?”

“By all means!” and up the side they came; their faces evidently big with some great purpose, and each desirous that the other should begin.

“You speak, Captain,” says Jan, “you’m oldest;” and then he began himself.  “If you please, sir, we’m come on a sort of deputation—­Why don’t you tell the gentleman, Captain?” Willis seemed either doubtful of the success of his deputation, or not over desirous thereof; for, after trying to put John Beer forward as spokesman, he began:—­

“I’m sorry to trouble you, sir, but these young men will have it so—­and no shame to them—­on a matter which I think will come to nothing.  But the truth is, they have heard that you are a great painter, and they have taken it into their heads to ask you to paint a picture for them.”

“Not to ask you a favour, sir, mind!” interrupted Jan; “we’d scorn to be so forward; we’ll subscribe and pay for it, in course, any price in reason.  There’s forty and more promised already.”

“You must tell me, first, what the picture is to be about,” said Claude, puzzled and amused.

“Why didn’t you tell the gentleman, Captain?”

“Because I think it is no use; and I told them all so from the first.  The truth is, sir, they want a picture of my—­of our schoolmistress, to hang up in the school or somewhere—­”