On her re-appearance Bluebell was received somewhat coldly by the old captain, who asked her where she could find to walk so long every day.  It was very disagreeable having to answer evasively, and he did not appear satisfied—­on the contrary, eyed her askance all the evening.

The reason was, he had accidentally observed Mr. Dutton coming out of an hotel, and was unable to conjecture what kept him in Liverpool, unless he were lingering there on Bluebell’s account.  Connecting this with her frequent absence from home, he began to think it time to be relieved from the responsibility of this dangerous young guest.  He did not reveal his suspicions to his wife, but the following day kept something of a watch over her, and proposed himself to accompany her out.

Somewhat surprised by the placid gratitude of her reply, his suspicions were still further allayed by seeing no sign of the lieutenant, for whom he kept a sharp look-out.  He told the girl—­narrowly watching her all the time—­that there were many snares in Liverpool, and that unless he could see her safely placed in a feymily before the next trip of the “Hyperion,” he must arrange with the owners for the passage-money, and take her back to her friends, trusting to them to, repay him.

“How generous you are, dear Captain Davidson!” was all she said.  But he noticed she turned deadly pale, and two bright drops stood in her eyes.

The idea was so tempting for a moment, with the irrevocable step of the morrow hanging over her like a troubled dream.  What if she could return to the old, happy, careless days, and leave this smoky, foggy England, where care and anxiety rose up at every step!  But there is no going back in life.  What should she do in Canada?  Her connection with the Rollestons was played out, and for every one’s happiness it was better severed.  There was scarcely any demand for governesses in the Dominion, as the children commonly went to school; so she would encumber her mother with the expenses of the voyage, with no prospect of contributing anything to her very slender fund.

All this passed rapidly through Bluebell’s mind; but it soon settled into an acceptance of what appeared the inevitable, while the good captain talked on, hoping to induce her to place some confidence in him, if she did know of her admirer’s presence in Liverpool.

The girl fathomed the old man’s drift, and most heartily wished she had not promised to conceal it from him.  It would be an unspeakable relief if this fatherly captain could only countenance and witness her marriage, to say nothing of being spared the treachery of deceiving him after all his kindness.  But, there!—­she had promised Harry, and must abide by her word.

Only, that evening at bed-time, observing Mrs. Davidson buried head and shoulders in a cupboard she was straightening, Bluebell suddenly threw her arms round the old skipper’s neck, gave him a silent hug, and glided from the room, and in the solitude of her own wrote, as fast as pen could scribble, an impulsive, affectionate letter of adieu, confessing what she was to do on the morrow, which her husband (she did not mention his name) would then write and announce to him.