Englefield Grange; or, Mary Armstrong's Troubles

The love of money is the root of all evil. —1 Tim. vi. 10
The afternoon sun of early summer shone brightly on the arm of the sea which joins the Solent at West Cowes, in the Isle of Wight. A few boats were moored alongside the landing-place, but as the season had not yet commenced, the boatmen were standing about idle, scarcely hoping for a fare.
Presently three ladies and a little boy were observed descending the steps, and one of the men, with whom the ladies seemed acquainted, hastily advanced, and touching his cap, exclaimed—
Want a boat, ma'am, to-day? splendid tide!
The lady was about to reply, when her youngest daughter, a beautiful girl of about eighteen, touched her on the arm, and exclaimed—
Oh, mamma, look at the waves; is not the sea very rough to-day?
Lor', no, Miss, replied the man, that's only a little ripple, caused by the fresh breeze; the boat 'ill sail beautiful if you're going up the Solent, for she'll have wind and tide in her favour.
Maria St. Clair looked above and around her as the man spoke, and truly the sea presented a charming aspect of crested, tiny waves, rippling in the breeze, and sparkling beneath the sun, shining in a sky of brilliant blue.
Her fears almost gave way at the sight, yet her sister's remark, although it shamed her into silence, did not complete the cure.
Why, Maria, how can you be so foolish? If you had sailed to India and back, as I have done, you would laugh at your fears of a sea like this.
You shall not venture, my dear, said her mother, who wore a widow's costume, unless you feel quite willing to do so.
Oh, thank you, mamma, but I would rather go with you. I want to conquer this nervousness on the water; why, even on a steamer I always feel afraid.