She moaned, and he felt her all limp and powerless.

“What is it, lass?  Whatever is the matter?  Is it about going away?”

She would not speak for a long time.

When she did speak, it was to say something for which my male reader may not be prepared.  But it will not surprise the women.

“O Dick—­forgive me!”

“Why, what for?”

“Forgive me, or else kill me:  I don’t care which.”

“I do, though.  There, I forgive you.  Now what’s your crime?”

“I can’t go.  Forgive me!”

“Can’t go?”

“I can’t.  Forgive me!”

“I’m blessed if I don’t believe that vagabond has been here tormenting of you again.”

“Oh, don’t miscall him.  He is penitent.  Yes, Dick, he has been here crying to me—­and I can’t leave him.  I can’t—­I can’t.  Dear Dick! you are young and stout-hearted; take all the things over, and make your fortune out there, and leave your poor foolish sister behind.  I should only fling myself into the salt sea if I left him now, and that would be peace to me, but a grief to thee.”

“Lordsake, Phoebe, don’t talk so.  I can’t go without you.  And do but think, why, the horses are on board by now, and all the gear.  It’s my belief a good hiding is all you want, to bring you to your senses; but I han’t the heart to give you one, worse luck.  Blessed if I know what to say or do.”

“I won’t go!” cried Phoebe, turning violent all of a sudden.  “No, not if I am dragged to the ship by the hair of my head.  Forgive me!” And with that word she was a mouse again.

“Eh, but women are kittle cattle to drive,” said poor Dick ruefully.  And down he sat at a nonplus, and very unhappy.

Phoebe sat opposite, sullen, heart-sick, wretched to the core; but determined not to leave Reginald.

Then came an event that might have been foreseen, yet it took them both by surprise.

A light step was heard, and a graceful, though seedy, figure entered the room with a set speech in his mouth:  “Phoebe, you are right.  I owe it to your long and faithful affection to make a sacrifice for you.  I will go to Africa with you.  I will go to the end of the world, sooner than you shall say I care for any woman on earth but you.”

Both brother and sister were so unprepared for this, that they could hardly realize it at first.

Phoebe turned her great, inquiring eyes on the speaker, and it was a sight to see amazement, doubt, hope, and happiness animating her features, one after another.

“Is this real?” said she.

“I will sail with you to-morrow, Phoebe; and I will make you a good husband, if you will have me.”

“That is spoke like a man,” said Dick.  “You take him at his word, Phoebe; and if he ill-uses you out there, I’ll break every bone in his skin.”

“How dare you threaten him?” said Phoebe.  “You had best leave the room.”