"Now I must go home," she remarked in a tone of regret.
"But you will come again and take tea with us to-morrow," said Persis, after asking Ned's consent with a glance, and receiving it in a smile. "Mr. Sands will not be back till Thursday."
"Yes, I'll come; you're very kind," replied Nancy, wondering what could make her company desired by one like Franks, to whom she had shown so much rudeness, or by his wife, who was herself such a pattern of sobriety and quiet behavior.
"I'll convoy you home," said Ned Franks, taking down his cap from its peg.
"Oh, dear, no. I could find my way blindfold, and there's clear moonlight to-night."
"I'll see you safe in port," said the sailor, with quiet firmness. He remembered that the "Blue Boar" must be passed on the road.
It was a night of exquisite beauty. The softness of the breeze, the silvery light of the moon, seemed in perfect harmony with the holier feelings which had been wakened in Nancy's breast by the sight of a Christian home.
"You are very happy," she abruptly observed, as she walked by the sailor's side.
"We are happy," was the brief but fervent reply.
"Perhaps clocks do go better with weights after all," muttered Nancy; a remark which to Ned sounded so odd, and so utterly foreign to their subject, that, had he not known that Nancy had had nothing stronger than his wife's good tea, he would have suspected that she had taken "a drop too much."