They looked at each other.
“I cannot tell,” said Mrs Stone. “What do you say, mother? What do you think William. I am impatient to see Rowland’s choice; but would it be etiquette for us to go to-night?”
“What do we care for etiquette?” said William. “I, for one, am above it. Let us go!”
An hour afterwards, we were all on the way to the residence of Captain Nowell.
On being ushered into the drawing-room, my relatives were surprised to meet an old acquaintance—the captain of the ship, on which they had voyaged some thousands of miles.
The Captain first introduced them to his wife; and then to his step-daughter. I had before mentioned her name to my brother—while giving him a brief history of the life I had led, after parting from him in Dublin.
On hearing the name, he gazed upon Lenore for a moment with evident admiration. Then turning to me, he inquired, “Is this the lost one, Rowland?”
I answered in the affirmative.
“I am reading a romance of real life,” said William, as he grasped Lenore’s hand, with a grasp no other but a true sailor could give.
Need I add that we passed that evening in the enjoyment of such happiness, as is only allowed to hearts that throb with innocence and honesty?