“Did you pay for us, sir?” said Maggie, anxious to ascertain the amount of money she had left, after defraying the passage.

“Yes,” replied he, rather confused.  “Erminia begged me not to tell you about it, but I can’t manage a secret well.  You see she did not like the idea of your going as steerage-passengers as you meant to do; and she desired me to take you cabin places for her.  It is no doing of mine, my dear.  I did not think of it; but now I have seen how crowded the steerage is, I am very glad Erminia had so much thought.  Edward might have roughed it well enough there, but it would never have done for you.”

“It was very kind of Erminia,” said Maggie, touched at this consideration of her friend; “but...”

“Now don’t ‘but’ about it,” interrupted he.  “Erminia is very rich, and has more money than she knows what to do with.  I’m only vexed I did not think of if myself.  For Maggie, though I may have my own ways of thinking on some points, I can’t be blind to your goodness.”

All evening Mr. Buxton was busy, and busy on their behalf.  Even Edward, when he saw the attention that was being paid to his physical comfort, felt a kind of penitence; and after choking once or twice in the attempt, conquered his pride (such I call it for want of a better word) so far as to express some regret for his past conduct, and some gratitude for Mr. Buxton’s present kindness.  He did it awkwardly enough, but it pleased Mr. Buxton.

“Well—­well—­that’s all very right,” said he, reddening from his own uncomfortableness of feeling.  “Now don’t say any more about it, but do your best in America; don’t let me feel I’ve been a fool in letting you off.  I know Mr. Henry will think me so.  And, above all, take care of Maggie.  Mind what she says, and you’re sure to go right.”

He asked them to go on board early the next day, as he had promised Erminia to see them there, and yet wished to return as soon as he could.  It was evident that he hoped, by making his absence as short as possible, to prevent Mr. Henry’s ever knowing that he had left home, or in any way connived at Edward’s escape.

So, although the vessel was not to sail till the afternoon’s tide, they left the hotel soon after breakfast, and went to the “Anna-Maria.”  They were among the first passengers on board.  Mr. Buxton took Maggie down to her cabin.  She then saw the reason of his business the evening before.  Every store that could be provided was there.  A number of books lay on the little table—­books just suited to Maggie’s taste.  “There!” said he, rubbing his hands.  “Don’t thank me.  It’s all Erminia’s doing.  She gave me the list of books.  I’ve not got all; but I think they’ll be enough.  Just write me one line, Maggie, to say I’ve done my best.”

Maggie wrote with tears in her eyes—­tears of love toward the generous Erminia.  A few minutes more and Mr. Buxton was gone.  Maggie watched him as long as she could see him; and as his portly figure disappeared among the crowd on the pier, her heart sank within her.