“You mean it, Neil?—­mean what you say?”

“Yes,” he answered her.  “You must choose steerage or me!”

“Then, Neil,” she continued, taking off her engagement-ring and putting it into his hand, “I am afraid it must be steerage.  There is your ring; it is all ended between us.  And it is better that it is so.  I have thought for some time that we could not be happy together with our dissimilar tastes.  I should always be doing something you did not like, and which I could not think was wrong.  Besides this, we need not deceive ourselves longer with the hope that your mother will ever give her consent to our marriage, for she will not, and as we cannot marry without it, I think it better that we should part; not in anger, Neil,” and she laid her hand caressingly upon his arm.  “We have loved each other too well for that.  We will be friends always, as we are cousins, but never man and wife.  We are free, both of us;” and as she spoke there kept coming over her a most delicious sense of relief, as if some burden were being rolled from her, and the expression of her face was not that of a young girl who has just broken with the man she loved.

And Neil felt the change in her, and rebelled against it, saying that he would not give her up though she went steerage a hundred times, and in his excitement he offered to marry her that day, if she were willing, and take her at once to his mother, who would not shut the door against them, when she knew the deed was done.

But Bessie was resolute, and Neil was obliged to abide with her decision, but his face was very gloomy, and there was a sense of pain and loss in his heart when at last he entered the carriage which was to take Bessie to the wharf.

Mrs. Goodnough was to attend to the luggage and see that it was on board, consequently Neil was spared all trouble, as Bessie meant he should be.  The rain was still falling, and there were many cabs and hansoms crowding the dock when Neil and Bessie reached it.

“Where will you go?  With the steerage gang?  If so, for Heaven’s sake keep your veil over your face.  I should not like to have any friend of mine, who might chance to be here, see you,” Neil said, impatiently, and Bessie replied: 

“I shall stay by Mrs. Goodnough till the tug takes us out.  There she is now, in the distance, I can make my way to her very well alone, and as it is raining hard, we had better say good-by here in the carriage.  You cannot help me any, and—­” she hesitated an instant, and then added:  “You might be recognized.”

Neil hated himself cordially, and called himself a sneak and a coward, but he followed Bessie’s advice, and drawing up the window of the carriage, clasped her to his bosom as he said farewell, telling her it was not forever, that she was his still, and he should come for her some day, and claim her promise to him.

Bessie did not contradict him.  She knew he was suffering greatly, and she pitied him, while all the time there was in her heart a little song of gladness that she was free.  Taking his face between her hand, she kissed it tenderly, and said: