The Firefly, laden with her burden, was ready at the pier, awaiting
the signal to depart. Lizzie Heartwell's friends still lingered upon
the inviting deck, reluctant to speak the parting word that must so
surely come. Dr. and Mrs. Heartwell, her uncle and aunt, Judge Amity
and his daughter, her Sabbath-school teacher, Bertha, Helen, and
Leah, the remaining ones of the "indissoluble quartette," as the
school-girls termed these friends, were assembled on the deck, and
with them Emile Le Grande and her newly formed friend, George
Marshall. In compliance with his promise he had come to speed the
parting vessel with good wishes, and watch its receding form till it
was lost from view upon the trackless waters.

As the citadel gun fired its sunset signal, the planks were ordered
in, friends rushed on shore, and then the Firefly moved from her
moorings, to plough the deep again. As George Marshall spoke his
last adieu, he slipped a tiny billet-doux into the hand of the
departing girl, who half heeding the action, dropped it into her
pocket, and sat down in loneliness upon the deck, to watch the
slowly vanishing shore. Fainter and dimmer grew the speck upon the
deep to the friends who watched on shore, fainter and dimmer in the
gathering twilight, till the bark rounded old Defiance, and was
divided by distance and darkness from their vision.

When Lizzie Heartwell, attended by the kind captain, descended below
deck, she remembered the little missive, and drawing it from its
hiding-place, read:

"Miss HEARTWELL: What would you think, if my wanderings should lead
me, some day, to Melrose? "Regretfully, "G.M."