my gratitude."

"But when do you think of going?"

"To-morrow. Captain Power, under whose command I am, has received orders
to embark immediately for Portugal."

I thought--perhaps it was but a thought--that her cheek grew somewhat
paler as I spoke; but she remained silent.

Fixing my eyes full upon her I spoke.

"Lucy, I feel I must confess it, cost what it may--I love you. I know
the fruitlessness, the utter despair, that awaits such a sentiment. My
own heart tells me that I am not, cannot be, loved in return. I ask for
nothing; I hope for nothing. I see that you at least pity me. Nay, one
word more. Do not, when time and distance have separated us, think that
the expressions I now use are prompted by a mere sudden ebullition of
boyish feeling; for I swear to you that my love to you is the source and
spring of every action in my life, and, when I cease to love you, I
shall cease to feel. And now, farewell; farewell for ever."

I pressed her hand to my lips, gave one long, last look, turned my horse
rapidly away, and, ere a minute, was out of sight.


_III.--I Smell Gunpowder_


What a contrast to the dull monotony of our life at sea did the scene