I never saw Marble so industrious as he proved to be when he received my hurried orders for sailing, that afternoon.  He shipped his mother and niece for Willow Cove, by an Albany sloop, the same evening, got the crew on board, and the Dawn into the stream, before sunset, and passed half the night in sending off small stores.  As for the ship, she had been cleared the day the hatches were battened down.  According to every rule of mercantile thrift, I ought to have been at sea twenty-four hours, when these orders were given; but a lingering reluctance to go further from the grave of Grace, the wish to have one more interview with Lucy, and a disposition to indulge my mate in his commendable zeal to amuse his new-found relatives, kept me in port beyond my day.

All these delays, however, were over, and I was now in a feverish hurry to be off.  Neb came up to the City Hotel as I was breakfasting, and reported that the ship was riding at single anchor, with a short range, and that the fore-top-sail was loose.  I sent him to the post-office for letters, and ordered my bill.  All my trunks had gone aboard before the ship hauled off, and,—­the distances in New York then being short,—­Neb was soon back, and ready to shoulder my carpet-bag.  The bill was paid, three or four letters were taken in my hand, and I walked towards the Battery, followed by the faithful black, who had again abandoned home, Chloe, and Clawbonny, to follow my fortunes.

I delayed opening the letters until I reached the Battery.  Despatching Neb to the boat, with orders to wait, I took a turn among the trees,—­still reluctant to quit the native soil—­while I broke the seals.  Two of the letters bore the post-marks of the office nearest Clawbonny; the third was from Albany; and the fourth was a packet of some size from Washington, franked by the Secretary of State, and bearing the seal of office.  Surprised at such a circumstance, I opened the last of these communications first.

The official letter proved to be an envelope containing,—­with a civil request to myself to deliver the enclosures,—­dispatches addressed to the Consul at Hamburg, for which port my ship had been advertised some time.  Of course, I could only determine to comply; and that communication was disposed of.  One of the Clawbonny letters was in Mr. Hardinge’s hand, and I found it to contain some excellent and parental advice.  He spoke of my sister, but it was calmly, and with the humble hope that became his sacred office.  I was not sorry to find that he advised me not to visit Clawbonny before I sailed.  Lucy, he said, was well, and a gentle sadness was gradually taking the place of the livelier grief she had endured, immediately after the loss of her friend.  “You were not aware, Miles, how keenly she suffered,” my good old guardian continued, “for she struggled hard to seem calm in your presence; but from me my dear child had no secrets on this subject, whatever she may see fit to have on another.  Hours has