as I have heard the Admiral say a thousand times, its taffrail ploughing
the main, and its cut-water gliding after, like a sinuous serpent pursuing
its shining wake, as a living creature choosing its path on the land, and
leaving the bone under its fore-foot, a beacon for those that follow? I
know not, my dear Wyllys, if I make myself intelligible to you, but, to my
instructed eye, this charming description conveys a picture of all that is
grand and beautiful!"

The latent smile, on the countenance of the governess might have betrayed
that she was imagining the deceased Admiral had not been altogether devoid
of the waggery of his vocation, had not a slight noise, which sounded like
the rustling of the wind, but which in truth was suppressed laughter,
proceeded from the upper room of the tower. The words, "It is lovely!"
were still on the lips of the youthful Gertrude, who saw all the beauty of
the picture her aunt had essayed to describe, without descending to the
humble employment of verbal criticism. But her voice became hushed, and
her attitude that of startled attention:--

"Did you hear nothing?" she said.

"The rats have not yet altogether deserted the mill," was the calm reply
of Wyllys.

"Mill! my dear Mrs Wyllys, will you persist in calling this picturesque
ruin _a mill_?"

"However fatal it may be to its charms, in the eyes of eighteen, I must
call it _a mill_."

"Ruins are not so plenty in this country, my dear governess," returned her