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362 sleep that night. There was silence on the deck, and gravity on the faces usually careless as that of a child; but each one was now mutely preparing for the coming hour of peril.

Two only in that vessel had neither sought the rest of the passengers nor shared the anxiety of the seamen. Evelyn had never moved from the ship's side, but leant there, one arm encircling Francesca, while he drew her attention to many a familiar object, and many a recollection of his youth. His heart had gone back to the past, but it had drawn hers along with it. At length, not even his watchful eye could discern the shadowy line that rested on the far horizon,—a cloud passed over the moon,—he had looked his last on England. Not till that moment did he know what it was to part from a country that had been, that was, so precious in his sight. He stood silent, and hid his face; while Francesca marked her sympathy by silence as deep as his own. Suddenly he turned towards her, and exclaimed,—

"Francesca, do you ever think of Italy?"

"Yes," said she tenderly, "As the place where we first met."

"Pardon me, dearest," whispered he, drawing her closer to his heart, "that one thought can wander from my present and perfect happiness;