“When are you to sail?” inquired Eve, sick-like.
“In three days. Cargo won't be on board before.”
“A coasting vessel?”
“A man can do his duty in a coaster as well as a merchantman or a frigate.” But he sighed.
“Would to God you had never seen her!”
“Don't blame her—blame me. I had good advice from my little sister, but I was willful. Never mind, Eve, I needn't to blush for loving her; she is worthy of it all.”
“Well, think so, David, if you can.” And Eve, thoroughly depressed, relapsed into silence. The postman's rap was heard, and soon after a long inclosure was placed in Eve's hand.
Poor little Eve did not receive many letters; and, sad as she was, she opened this with some interest; but how shall I paint its effect? She kept uttering shrieks of joy, one after another, at each sentence. And when she had shrieked with joy many times, she ran with the large paper round to David. “You are captain of the Rajah! ah! the new ship! ah! eleven hundred tons! Oh, David! Oh, my heart! Oh! oh! oh!” and the poor little thing clasped her arms round her brother's neck, and kissed him again and again, and cried and sobbed for joy.
All men, and most women, go through life without once knowing what it is to cry for joy, and it is a comfort to think that Eve's pure and deep affection brought her such a moment as this in return for much trouble and sorrow. David, stout-hearted as he was, was shaken as the sea and the wind had never yet shaken him. He turned red and white alternately, and trembled. “Captain of the Rajah! It is too good—it is too good! I have done nothing for it”; and he was incredulous.
Eve was devouring the inclosure. “It is her doing,” she cried; “it is all her doing.”