To be happy, and to be compelled to open to mishap this fatal door, absence!  Hence it is only in comic operas, and inferior novels, that the sailors are seen to sing their most cheerful songs at the moment when a vessel is about to sail on a long and perilous voyage.  The moment is, in reality, always a sad one, very grave and solemn.

Such could not fail to be the scene also, when “The Conquest” sailed,—­the ship on board of which Daniel Champcey had been ordered as lieutenant.  And certainly there had been good reasons for ordering him to make haste and get down to the port where she lay; for the very next day after his arrival, she hoisted anchor.  She had been waiting for him only.

Having reached Rochefort at five o’clock in the morning, he slept the same night on board; and the next day “The Conquest” sailed.  Daniel suffered more than any other man on board, although he succeeded in affecting a certain air of indifference.  The thought of Henrietta being left in the hands of adventurers who were capable of any thing was a thorn in his side, which caused him great and constant pain.  As he gradually calmed down, and peace returned to his mind, a thousand doubts assailed him concerning Maxime de Brevan:  would he not be exposed to terrible temptation when he found himself thrown daily into the company of a great heiress?  Might he not come to covet her millions, and try to abuse her peculiar situation in order to secure them to himself?

Daniel believed too firmly in his betrothed to apprehend that she would even listen to Brevan.  But he reasoned, very justly, that his darling would be in a desperate condition indeed, if M. de Brevan, furious at being refused, should betray his confidence, and go over to the enemy, to the Countess Sarah.

“And I,” he thought, “who in my last directions urged her to trust implicitly in Maxime, and to follow his advice as if it were my own!”

In the midst of these terrible anxieties, he hardly recollected that he had intrusted to Maxime every thing that he possessed.  What was his money to him in comparison!

Thus it appeared to him a genuine favor of Providence when “The Conquest,” six days out at sea, experienced a violent storm, which endangered her safety for nearly seventy-two hours.  His thoughts disappeared while he felt his grave responsibility, as long as the sea tossed the vessel to and fro like a mere cork, and while the crew fought with the elements till they were overcome by fatigue.  He had actually a good night’s rest, which he had not enjoyed since he left Paris.

When he awoke, he was surprised to feel a certain peace of mind.  Henceforth his fate was no longer in his own hands; he had been shown very clearly his inability to control events.  Sad resignation succeeded to his terrible anxiety.