“What ails you, Neil?  Surely you are not fretting after that girl?”

She knew Bessie was to sail that afternoon, and that Neil was to see her off, but she was not prepared for the white face which he turned to her, or the bitter tones in which he said: 

“Yes, I am fretting for that girl, as you call her.  And I would give half my life to be with her this minute.  But she is gone.  She is lost to me forever, and I wish I were dead.”

To this outburst Lady Jane made no reply, but, as she looked into her son’s face, there flashed upon her a doubt as to the result of her opposition to Bessie, and the question as to whether it would not be better to withdraw it and let him have his way.  The girl was well enough, or would be if she had money, and this she would unquestionably get from the old-maid aunt.  She would wait and see, and meantime she would give Neil a grain of comfort, so she said to him: 

“I had no idea you loved her so much.  Perhaps that aunt may make her rich, and then she would not be so bad a match.  You must marry money.”

Yes, Neil must marry money if possible, but he must marry Bessie, too; and as he looked upon the broken engagement as something which could easily be taken up again, he felt greatly consoled by his mother’s words, and for the remainder of the evening was as gay and agreeable as Lady Jane could wish.  But still there was always in his mind the picture of a forlorn little girl, wrapped in a blue waterproof, with the hood over her head, disappearing from his sight through the rain, and he was constantly wondering what she was doing, and if Grey Jerrold would find her.

CHAPTER VII.

ON THE SHIP.

Never in her life had Bessie felt so utterly desolate and friendless as when she said good-by to Neil and threaded her way through the crowd of drays, and cabs, and express-wagons to where Mrs. Goodnough was waiting for her.  All her former life, with the dear old home, lay behind her, while before her was the broad ocean and the uncertainty as to what she should find in far-off America.  Added to this there was a clinging in her heart to Neil, whom she had loved too long to forget at once, and although she felt it was far better to be free, she was conscious of a sense of loss, and loneliness, and inexpressible homesickness when she at last took her seat in the tug which was to take her and her fellow-companions to the steamer moored in the river.

Oh, how damp and close it was on the boat, especially in the dark corner where Bessie crouched as if to hide herself from view!  She had promised Neil to avoid observation as much as possible, and, keeping her hood over her head, she tied over it a dark blue vail, which hid her face from sight, and hid, too, the tears, which fell like rain, as she sat with clasped hands leaning her aching head against Mrs. Goodnough, who, though a rough, uncultivated woman, had a kind, motherly heart, and pitied the young girl, who, she knew, was so sadly out of place.