"What circumstances?"
"Love, sir."
"Love!" exclaimed Barnabas, "why, Bo'sun—what do you mean?"
"I mean, sir, as she's fell in love at last—
"How do you know—who with—where is she—?"
"Well, sir, I know on account o' 'er lowness o' sperrits,—noticed it for a week or more. Likewise I've heered 'er sigh very frequent, and I've seen 'er sit a-staring up at the moon—ah, that I have! Now lovers is generally low in their sperrits, I've heered tell, and they allus stare very 'ard at the moon,—why, I don't know, but they do,—leastways, so I've—"
"But—in love—with whom? Can I see her? Where is she? Are you sure?"
"And sartain, sir. Only t' other night, as I sat a-smoking my pipe on the lawn, yonder,—she comes out to me, and nestles down under my lee—like she used to years ago. 'Jerry, dear,' says she, 'er voice all low and soft-like, 'look at the moon,—how beautiful it is!' says she, and—she give a sigh. 'Yes, my lady,' says I. 'Oh, Jerry,' says she, 'call me Clo, as you used to do.' 'Yes, my Lady Clo,' says I. But she grapples me by the collar, and stamps 'er foot at me, all in a moment. 'Leave out the 'lady,'' says she. 'Yes, Clo,' says I. So she nestles an' sighs and stares at the moon again. 'Jerry, dear,' says she after a bit, 'when will the moon be at the full?' 'To-morrer, Clo,' says I. And after she's stared and sighed a bit longer—'Jerry, dear,' says she again, 'it's sweet to think that while we are looking up at the moon—others perhaps are looking at it too, I mean others who are far away. It—almost seems to bring them nearer, doesn't it? Then I knowed as 't were love, with a big L, sartin and sure, and—"
"Bo'sun," said Barnabas, catching him by the arm, "who is it she loves?"
"Well, sir,—I aren't quite sure, seeing as there are so many on 'em in 'er wake, but I think,—and I 'ope, as it's 'is Lordship, Master Horatio."