her father's yacht, the Esperanza, standing out of Otley river. There
was a gallant splendour in the vessel that threw a touch of glory on its
mistress in the minds of the two young naval officers, as they pulled for
her in the ship's gig.

Wilmore sang out, 'Give way, men!'

The sailors bent to their oars, and presently the schooner's head was put
to the wind.

'She sees we're giving chase,' Wilmore said. 'She can't be expecting me,
so it must be you. No, the colonel doesn't race her. They've only been
back from Italy six months: I mean the schooner. I remember she talked
of you when I had her for a partner. Yes, now I mean Miss Halkett.
Blest if I think she talked of anything else. She sees us. I'll tell
you what she likes: she likes yachting, she likes Italy, she likes
painting, likes things old English, awfully fond of heroes. I told her a
tale of one of our men saving life. "Oh!" said she, "didn't your friend
Nevil Beauchamp save a man from drowning, off the guardship, in exactly
the same place?" And next day she sent me a cheque for three pounds for
the fellow. Steady, men! I keep her letter.'

The boat went smoothly alongside the schooner. Miss Halkett had come to
the side. The oars swung fore and aft, and Beauchamp sprang on deck.

Wilmore had to decline Miss Halkett's invitation to him as well as his
friend, and returned in his boat. He left the pair with a ruffling
breeze, and a sky all sail, prepared, it seemed to him, to enjoy the most
delicious you-and-I on salt water that a sailor could dream of; and
placidly envying, devoid of jealousy, there was just enough of fancy