seemed so inexplicable, that I thought I would wait her own pleasure in
the matter.

"Your friend, Marble," she continued--"I do not know why I ought not to
say _our_ friend, Marble, must be a very happy man at having, at length,
discovered who his parents are, and to have discovered them to be so
respectable and worthy of his affection."

"As yet, he seems to be more bewildered than happy, as, indeed, does the
whole family. The thing has come on them so unexpectedly, that there has
not been time to bring their feelings in harmony with the facts."

"Family affection is a blessed thing, Miles," Lucy resumed, after a short
pause, speaking in her thoughtful manner; "there is little in this world
that can compensate for its loss. It must have been sad, sad, to the poor
fellow to have lived so long without father, mother, sister, brother or
any other known relative."

"I believe Marble found it so; yet, I think, he felt the supposed disgrace
of his birth more than his solitary condition. The man has warm
affections at the bottom, though he has a most uncouth manner of making
it known."

"I am surprised one so circumstanced never thought of marrying; he might,
at least, have lived in the bosom of his own family, though he never knew
that of a father."

"These are the suggestions of a tender and devoted female heart, dear
Lucy; but, what has a sailor to do with a wife? I have heard it said Sir
John Jervis--the present Lord St. Vincent--always declared a married