The wicked young man found himself almost wishing that the somewhat bad-tempered Madam Bonnet might hear of and change any plan which might take her husband’s daughter from this town, especially in a vessel; for vessels were always terribly tardy when any one was waiting for their return.  And, besides, it often happened that vessels never came back at all.

“I shall take a little trip with him even if we don’t go far; it would be ridiculous for my father to own a ship, and for me never to sail in her.”

“That would not be so bad,” said Master Martin, feeling that a short absence might be endured.  Moreover, if a little pleasure trip were to be made, it was reasonable enough to suppose that other people, not belonging to the Bonnet family, might be asked to sail as guests.

“What my father expects to trade in,” said she contemplatively gazing before her, “I am sure I do not know.  It cannot be horses or cattle, for he has not enough of them to make such a venture profitable.  And as to sugar-cane, or anything from his farm, I am sure he has a good enough market here for all he has to sell.  Certainly he does not produce enough to make it necessary for him to buy a ship in order to carry them away.”

“It is opined,” said Martin, “by the people of the town, that Major Bonnet intends to become a commercial man, and to carry away to the other islands, and perhaps to the old country itself, the goods of other people.”

“Now that would be fine!” said Mistress Kate, her eyes sparkling, “for I should then surely go with him, and would see the world, and perhaps London.”  And her face flushed with the prospect.

Martin’s face did not flush.  “But if your father’s ship sailed on a long voyage,” he said, with a suspicion of apprehension, “he would not sail with her; he would send her under the charge of others.”

The girl shook her head.  “When she sails,” said she, “he sails in her.  If you had heard him talking as I have heard him, you would not doubt that.  And if he sails, I sail.”

Martin’s soul grew quite sad.  There were very good reasons to believe that this dear girl might sail away from Bridgetown, and from him.  She might come back to the town, but she might not come back to him.

“Mistress Kate,” said he, looking very earnestly at her, “do you know that such speech as this makes my heart sink?  You know I love you, I have told you so before.  If you were to sail away, I care not to what port, this world would be a black place for me.”

“That is like a lover,” she exclaimed a little pertly; “it is like them all, every man of them.  They must have what they want, and they must have it, no matter who else may suffer.”

He rose and stood by her.

“But I don’t want you to suffer,” he said.  “Do you think it would be suffering to live with one who loved you, who would spend his whole life in making you happy, who would look upon you as the chief thing in the world, and have no other ambition than to make himself worthy of you?”