Poor little Eve did not receive many letters; and, sad as she was, she opened this with some interest; but how shall I paint its effect?  She kept uttering shrieks of joy, one after another, at each sentence.  And when she had shrieked with joy many times, she ran with the large paper round to David.  “You are captain of the Rajah! ah! the new ship! ah! eleven hundred tons!  Oh, David!  Oh, my heart!  Oh! oh! oh!” and the poor little thing clasped her arms round her brother’s neck, and kissed him again and again, and cried and sobbed for joy.

All men, and most women, go through life without once knowing what it is to cry for joy, and it is a comfort to think that Eve’s pure and deep affection brought her such a moment as this in return for much trouble and sorrow.  David, stout-hearted as he was, was shaken as the sea and the wind had never yet shaken him.  He turned red and white alternately, and trembled.  “Captain of the Rajah! It is too good—­it is too good!  I have done nothing for it"; and he was incredulous.

Eve was devouring the inclosure.  “It is her doing,” she cried; “it is all her doing.”

“Whose?”

“Who do you think?  I am in the air!  I am in heaven!  Bless her—­oh, God, bless her for this.  Never speak against cold-blooded folk before me; they have twice the principle of us hot ones:  I always said so.  She is a good creature; she is a true friend; and you accused her of ingratitude!”

“That I never did.”

“You did—­Rajah—­he! he! oh!—­and I defended her.  Here, take and read that:  is that a commission or not?  Now you be quiet, and let us see what she says.  No, I can’t; I cannot keep the tears out of my eyes.  Do take and read it, David; I’m blind.”

David took the letter, kissed it, and read it out to Eve, and she kept crowing and shedding tears all the time.

“DEAR MISS DODD—­I admire too much your true affection for your brother to be indifferent to your good opinion.  Think of me as leniently as you can.  Perhaps it gives me as much pleasure to be able to forward you the inclosed as the receipt of it, I hope, may give you.

“It would, I think, be more wise, and certainly more generous, not to let Mr. Dodd think he owes in any degree to me that which, if the world were just, would surely have been his long ago.  Only, some few months hence, when it can do him no harm, I could wish him not to think his friend Lucy was ungrateful, or even cold in his service, who saved her life, and once honored her with so warm an esteem.  But all this I confide to your discretion and your justice.  Dear Miss Dodd, those who give pain to others do not escape it themselves, nor is it just they should.  My insensibility to the merit of persons of the other sex has provoked my relatives; they have punished me for declining Mr. Dodd’s inferiors with a bitterness Mr. Dodd, with far more cause, never showed me; so you see at each turn I am reminded of his superiority.