said Jessie; "but it makes me quite tremble, dear. Now you've got the chance of doing something, instead of only talking. It's the sort of feeling as if I was frightened ;—and I'm not frightened, you know, dear; but I feel just ready to cry."

"Oh, don't do that, Jess dear; that'll make mother suspicious, and perhaps spoil my chance. So cheer up, lass (that's what sailors say), and give me a kiss; for the cart's coming, and I'm going.-Hooray!"

It was a charming autumnal morning; so balmy— so genial; the dew drying off under the influence of the rising sun--the light mist from the earth changing momentarily into silver clouds in the sky-and the fading leaves floating gently down from the trees. The horse in Mr. Ford's cart looked fat and drowsy; but the instant he heard his master's voice, he pricked up his ears, and was all attention, ready to start at any minute.

The birds were yet chirping their early matins, when Frank sprang up, and seated himself by the side of the good old carrier; and full of joy and hope, he bade farewell to his mother and sisters.

Poor mother! she did not know how much this visit would influence the whole life of her dear son, helping him into the very track she so dreaded him to pursue. She did not know how much his heart was set upon following in the footsteps of his dead father. She did not know that, whenever she had sent him on errands, his companion had always been one of that father's nautical books, a dictionary of sea terms, which

he had nearly learnt by heart, or a treatise on navigation and seamanship; and that her boy, of whose arithmetic she was justly proud, had been trying for months past to work logarithms.

She would now know soon enough; and Jessie would not need to look so scared whenever her mother began to speak of Frank. The burden of the secret would be off her mind, and she would be no longer in fear of incautiously revealing it.

They had to sit up quite late that night, for Mr. Ford was detained in Liverpool; and when Frank returned home they were all too tired to ask him many questions. So Mrs. Robinson's parcel was set aside to be examined in the morning, when all the news was to be related. "They must think of nothing," their mother said, "but their prayers; and, God willing, after a good night's rest, we will enjoy all else to-morrow."

66

Only one more night, and she will know all." That one night had passed, and there was yet another; but only one other, and then

CHAPTER VI.

A LETTER WHICH CAUSES MUCH PAIN.

T seemed an easy matter while Frank was on his way home, and while he was getting up the next morning - it seemed an easy matter to say, "Mother, I am going to sea. He forgot that he must first get her consent before he could go; and now, at this last moment,

His

he did not feel quite so sure of obtaining it. father's untimely death had given her such a horror of a seafaring life, that her constant prayer and hope had been for her son to prefer some employment on land.

But it was not so to be.

"No matter, here goes!" said Frank to himself, as he descended the stairs and tried to cast away the

doubts and fears which would intrude upon him. "I'm past thirteen, quite old enough to be off mother's hands, and to look out for myself. Three shillings a week don't keep me, nor half, and I do like the sea better than gardening, so there's no two ways about it. If I don't go, I shall always be wanting to, and sha'n't be able to put my mind into any other work; so I'd best tell her right off and have it over. I'd sooner have a tooth out, though, I know that; for I'm pretty sure she'll take on, and that'll put an end to my roving. Oh dear!" he sighed, "I wish it was done and settled."

He entered the kitchen; he was later than usual, and his mother exclaimed as he went in,

"Just in time, Frank; I am going to read Mrs. Robinson's letter, and perhaps she has said something about you in it. I hope she was able to give you a good character, my son. But it has important and immediate'. outside; what can that mean?" and the widow hastily removed the envelope and opened the letter.

Jessie saw Frank's face change colour, and she felt that she, too, was getting very red. She guessed what the "immediate and important" meant, and she was sure Frank knew, by his confused manner.

Poor Frank! he was suffering real pain, for to watch the working of his dear mother's features as her eyes travelled to the bottom of the page was infinitely worse than having to tell her "right out " himself.

She read it all through without a word of comment. She was deadly pale. In silence (oppressively painful

to the younger children) she passed the letter over to Margaret, then, with a faint cry of anguish, she sank into her chair, and, covering her face with her hands, burst into tears.

This was dreadful! Frank could not bear to see his darling mother so distressed. He threw his arms round her neck; he kissed her again and again, and almost felt inclined to give up his dearly cherished project. Yet no-he must try it-he could think of nothing else he couldn't soothe her by promising to relinquish his plans. What could he do? what could he say?

He knelt at her feet and pleaded for her consent. "Mother, dear, darling mother! will it not be best for me just to have one voyage, perhaps? I shall never be able to settle to real man's work until I have been to sea. I'll promise to give it up if there's a hitch any where. Do, dear mother, say I may go-one little, short voyage, just to convince me that it is a miserable life, and that I'll be better off at home. may never have such a chance again, and I mayn't like it after all, you know. Every body says I shall wish myself back in a month, and if that comes true, I shall be quite satisfied to work at home. I'm restless, mother, now-restless and longing-pray, pray say 'yes,' and let me go."

I

But

She looked into his earnest, pleading eyes, and felt that it would be cruel to detain him. She must let him go, for his heart was set upon it; what was her happiness in comparison with his? Yes, he must go, but it was pain and grief to her. She wept, long and