and that'll bring her round. You tell me what your prospects are, Will.
I'm loathe to part with ye, lad, and that's the truth."

"I'll be back by the summer, Hetty. We're going to Africa and back.
I'm to be well paid, and it's a good ship to sail in. The cap'n ain't
one of your rough and ready, and the rations are fair."

As he spoke he glanced again at Bet, who was leaning her cheek on her
hand. Neither he nor Hester could catch any reflection of her face,
which was completely hidden.

"We'll talk to her presently," whispered the elder woman. "Now push
the table aside, Will, and let's have a sailor-song together, just for
good luck."

"No, let's sing 'Barbara Allen,'" said Will. Again he glanced at Bet,
and this time he sighed.

The two voices blended well, Will's being of nearly as rare a quality
as his cousin's. When they sang, so great was the power of this gift
bestowed upon them, they rose several degrees in the scale of refinement
and even of education. Their voices lost all trace of dialect, their
eyes shone with true feeling. The pathetic old words had never been
more fitly rendered.

As the voices rose and swelled, and filled the little room with a
perfect melody of sound, Bet ceased to sigh; her hands fell idly into
her lap, and her face, which was now turned towards the singers, became
filled with a sort of ecstasy. Her parted lips seemed scarcely to
breathe, and her eyes reflected the emotions caused by the pathos of