to themselves. The fourth day was bright and clear, and the sea was
reasonably calm. For the first time he was up earlier than Miss Earle,
and he paced the deck with great impatience, waiting for her appearance.
He wondered who and what she was. He had a dim, hazy idea that some time
before in his life, he had met her, and probably had been acquainted
with her. What an embarrassing thing it would be, he thought, if he had
really known her years before, and had forgotten her, while she knew who
he was, and had remembered him. He thought of how accurately she had
guessed his position in life--if it was a guess. He remembered that
often, when he looked at her, he felt certain he had known her and
spoken to her before. He placed the two steamer chairs in position, so
that Miss Earle's chair would be ready for her when she did appear, and
then, as he walked up and down the deck waiting for her, he began to
wonder at himself. If any one had told him when he left New York that,
within three or four days he could feel such an interest in a person who
previous to that time had been an utter stranger to him, he would have
laughed scornfully and bitterly at the idea. As it was, when he thought
of all the peculiar circumstances of the case, he laughed aloud, but
neither scornfully nor bitterly.

"You must be having very pleasant thoughts, Mr. Morris," said Miss
Earle, as she appeared with a bright shawl thrown over her shoulders,
instead of the long cloak that had encased her before, and with a Tam o'
Shanter set jauntily on her black, curly hair.

"You are right," said Morris, taking off his cap, "I was thinking of
you."

"Oh, indeed," replied the young lady, "that's why you laughed, was it?
I may say that I do not relish being laughed at in my absence, or in my