"Yes, old fellow. You see, a lazy, land-lubber's life doesn't suit me. I've tried it, and it don't answer. I thought the sound of the water washing against the bank at the bottom of my garden, and the sight of the ships in the Pool, would be consolation enough for me, but they ain't, and I've been sickening for the sea for the last six mouths. As long as my little Rosy had nobody in the world but me to take care of her, I stayed with her, and I should have gone on staying with her till I died at my post. But she's got a husband now, and two trust-worthy women-servants, who would protect her if you left her—as I suppose you must leave her, sooner or later—so there's no reason why I should stop on shore any longer, pining for a sight of blue water."
"And you really mean to leave us!" exclaimed George Jernam. "I am afraid your going will break poor Rosy's heart."
"No it won't, George," answered Captain Duncombe. "When a young woman's married, her heart is uncommonly tough with regard to everybody except her husband. I dare say poor little Rosy-posy will be sorry to lose her old father; but she'll have you to console her, and she won't grieve long. Besides, I'm not going away for ever, you know. I'm only just going to take a little cruise to the Indies, with a cargo of dry goods, make a bit of money for my grandchildren that are to be, and then come home again, fresher than ever, and settle down in the bosom of my family. I've seen a neat little craft that will suit me to a T; and I shall fit her out, and be off for blue water before the month is ended."
It was evident that the old sailor was in earnest, and George Jernam did not attempt to overrule his determination. Rosamond pleaded against her father's departure, but she pleaded in vain. Early in June Captain Duncombe left England on board a neat little craft, which he christened the "Young Wife," in compliment to his daughter.
Before he went, George promised that he would himself await the return of his father-in-law before he started on a new voyage.
"I can afford to be idle for twelve months, or so," he said; "and my dear little wife shall not be left without a protector."
So the young couple settled down comfortably in the commodious cottage, which was now all their own.
To Rosamond, her new existence was all unbroken joy. She had loved her husband with all the romantic devotion of inexperienced girlhood. To her poetic fancy he seemed the noblest and bravest of created beings; and she wondered at her own good fortune when she saw him by her side, fond and devoted, consent to sacrifice all the delights of his free, roving life for her sake.
"I don't think such happiness can last, George," she said to him one day.
That vague foreboding was soon to be too sadly realized! The sunshine and the bright summer peace had promised to last for ever; but a dark cloud arose which in one moment overshadowed all that summer sky, and Rosamond Jernam's happiness vanished as if it had been indeed a dream.