"I know it, sir; I heard it all this morning; I wish you joy," gasped the poor girl.
"Heard of it all! good heavens, Mary, what do you mean? it is you, my own dearest girl, that I love; who else _could_ you think of?" as he spoke he held both her hands in his and clasped them earnestly.
"I heard," faltered poor Mary, "I was told that--that it was--Jane Wilson, O, Thomas!" and sinking her glowing cheek upon his shoulder, she burst into tears.
Kelson, inexpressibly delighted by this unequivocal testimony of her love, prest her to his bosom, and hastened to explain to her that the sole object of his seeking an interview with her that evening, was to make known his affection; that his silence and reserve were owing to the deep interest he felt in the issue of that interview; that his visits to Captain Wilson's were solely on business; that he scarcely saw his daughter Jane at any one of them; and a thousand other things. What a stupid, asinine creature is a lover, _before_ the ice is broken, and what an eloquent, inspired animal, _after_ the _explosion_! A lover may retire to his closet, and spoil a whole ream of paper with "raven locks," and "eyes' liquid azure," and "sweet girls," &c. Such an epicure creature as Natty Willis will befoul you a quire of foolscap before breakfast in that way--but let a stranger see the same lover in presence of his idol, and he would think that he was then to apologise for an assault and battery with intent, &c.
The walk home was the pleasantest they had ever enjoyed--both were too happy for conversation. They decided, however, before they parted, that it was altogether unnecessary to communicate to Captain Bowline what had taken place. "He has understood all along what was the state of your feelings," said Mary, "and I am sure has always regarded you with paternal kindness."
O! a most dainty man! To see him walk before a lady and bear her fan!
The next day, as the old seaman sat by a front window smoking his pipe after dinner, he suddenly started up with the exclamation of "Hey! what--what the devil have we here? Mary, love, hand me the glass--a mariner adrift on a grating, by the Lord Harry!"
The object that called forth this animadversion, and broke a delightful day-dream that Mary was indulging in, now appeared in sight, having hitherto been hidden by a thick clump of trees, that bounded the ocean prospect towards the right. It was a small sail-boat, with three men in her, that, at one moment directly before the wind, and the next, "all shaking," seemed rapidly approaching an extensive mud flat, that formed one side of the harbor, and towards which the flowing tide and fresh breeze seemed to be fast drifting her.