After breakfast that morning we had news at last of the yacht.
The vessel was safely moored in the inner harbor, and the
sailing-master was waiting to receive my husband's orders on
board.

Eustace hesitated at asking me to accompany him to the yacht. It
would be necessary for him to examine the inventory of the
vessel, and to decide questions, not very interesting to a woman,
relating to charts and barometers, provisions and water. He asked
me if I would wait for his return. The day was enticingly
beautiful, and the tide was on the ebb. I pleaded for a walk on
the sands; and the landlady at our lodgings, who happened to be
in the room at the time, volunteered to accompany me and take
care of me. It was agreed that we should walk as far as we felt
inclined in the direction of Broadstairs, and that Eustace should
follow and meet us on the sands, after having completed his
arrangements on board the yacht.

In half an hour more the landlady and I were out on the beach.

The scene on that fine autumn morning was nothing less than
enchanting. The brisk breeze, the brilliant sky, the flashing
blue sea, the sun-bright cliffs and the tawny sands at their
feet, the gliding procession of ships on the great marine highway
of the English Channel--it was all so exhilarating, it was all so
delightful, that I really believe if I had been by myself I could
have danced for joy like a child. The one drawback to my
happiness was the landlady's untiring tongue. She was a forward,
good-natured, empty-headed woman, who persisted in talking,
whether I listened or not, and who had a habit of perpetually