She was alive, alas! and the future lay before her; something had to be done with it. Margaret, broken-hearted and weighed down by sorrow as she was, was still the same Margaret, strong of purpose and self-reliant. Love she had done with forever, happiness had passed beyond her reach, but her art still remained to her—the mistress whom those who serve find faithful to the end.
As the Rose sailed into the harbor, Captain Daniel came up to Margaret.
"We're nearing port, miss," he said, "but it don't follow that you and the Rose need part company. Brest's a poor place for a lady to be turned out in. If so be as you care to go on with us, why I'll pick up a few things in the port here to make the cabin more fit for you. I'm thinking, if you'll forgive me, miss, that the sea is doing you good, and that if you'd come on with the Rose as far as Leghorn in Italy——"
Margaret's face flushed faintly, and a light, the first that had shone there for many a day, glowed in her eyes. The captain saw it and pressed his point.
"Italy's the place, miss!" he said, persuasively. "At Leghorn you'd be near Florence and Rome, and all the grand sights! But here, Brest, it's only a 'one hoss' place."
Margaret hesitated. The prospect of going to Italy contained as much pleasantness as any prospect could for her.
"Are you sure that I should not be in the way?" she asked, gently. "You are all so kind, and make such sacrifices for me——"
"Don't say another word, Miss Leslie," said Captain Daniel; for "Leslie" was the name Mrs. Day had given to her. "Me and my crew will be proud to have you with us!"
Margaret went ashore at Brest for a few hours, and got some articles of dress, and the Rose, staying no longer than was necessary to obtain provisions, set sail for Leghorn.
The weather was fine and the wind favorable, and in due course the Rose reached the Italian port.