woman for my friend. Whether she is lady or lady's-maid, she is
equally precious to me.

Cowes, March 2.--I am in treaty with an agent for the hire of a
yacht.

I must do something, and go somewhere. Returning to Beaupark is
out of the question. People with tranquil minds can find pleasure

in the society of their country neighbors. I am a miserable
creature, with a mind in a state of incessant disturbance.

Excellent fathers of families talking politics to me; exemplary
mothers of families offering me matrimonial opportunities with

their daughters--that is what society means, if I go back to
Devonshire. No. I will go for a cruise in the Mediterranean; and

I will take one friend with me whose company I never weary of--my
dog.

The vessel is discovered--a fine schooner of three hundred tons,
just returned from a cruise to Madeira. The sailing-master and

crew only ask for a few days on shore. In that time the surveyor
will have examined the vessel, and the stores will be on board.

March 3.--I have written to Stella, with a list of addresses at
which letters will reach me; and I have sent another list to my

faithful ally the maid. When we leave Gibraltar, our course will
be to Naples--thence to Civita Vecchia, Leghorn, Genoa,

Marseilles. From any of those places, I am within easy traveling
distance of St. Germain.

March 7. At Sea.--It is half-past six in the evening. We have
just passed the Eddystone Lighthouse, with the wind abeam. The

log registers ten knots an hour.
Fourth Extract.

_Naples, May_ 10.--The fair promise at the beginning of my voyage
has not been fulfilled. Owing to contrary winds, storms, and

delays at Cadiz in repairing damages, we have only arrived at
Naples this evening. Under trying circumstances of all sorts, the

yacht has behaved admirably. A stouter and finer sea-boat never
was built.

We are too late to find the post-office open. I shall send ashore
for letters the first thing tomorrow morning. My next movements

will depend entirely on the news I get from St. Germain. If I
remain for any length of time in these regions, I shall give my

crew the holiday they have well earned at Civita Vecchia. I am
never weary of Rome--but I always did, and always shall, dislike

Naples.
May 11--. My plans are completely changed. I am annoyed and

angry; the further I get away from France, the better I shall be
pleased.

I have heard from Stella, and heard from the maid. Both letters
inform me that the child is born, and that it is a boy. Do they

expect me to feel any interest in the boy? He is my worst enemy
before he is out of his long-clothes.

Stella writes kindly enough. Not a line in her letter, however,
invites me, or holds out the prospect of inviting me, to St.

Germain. She refers to her mother very briefly, merely informing
me that Mrs. Eyrecourt is well, and is already enjoying the

gayeties of Paris. Three-fourths of the letter are occupied with
the baby. When I wrote to her I signed myself "yours

affectionately." Stella signs "yours sincerely." It is a trifle,
I daresay--but I feel it, for all that.

Matilda is faithful to her engagement; Matilda's letter tells me
the truth.

"Since the birth of the baby," she writes, "Mrs. Romayne has
never once mentioned your name; she can talk of nothing, and

think of nothing, but her child. I make every allowance, I hope,
for a lady in her melancholy situation. But I do think it is not

very grateful to have quite forgotten Mr. Winterfield, who has
done so much for her, and who only asks to pass a few hours of

his day innocently in her society. Perhaps, being a single woman,
I write ignorantly about mothers and babies. But I have my

feelings; and (though I never liked Mr. Romayne) I feel for
_you,_ sir--if you will forgive the familiarity. In my opinion

this new craze about the baby will wear out. He is already a
cause of difference of opinion. My good mistress, who possesses

knowledge of the world, and a kind heart as well, advises that
Mr. Romayne should be informed of the birth of a son and heir.

Mrs. Eyrecourt says, most truly, that the hateful old priest will
get possession of Mr. Romayne's property, to the prejudice of the

child, unless steps are taken to shame him into doing justice to
his own son. But Mrs. Romayne is as proud as Lucifer; she will

not hear of making the first advances, as she calls it. 'The man
who has deserted me,' she says, 'has no heart to be touched

either by wife or child.' My mistress does not agree with her.
There have been hard words already, and the nice old French

gentleman and his wife try to make peace. You will smile when I
tell you that they offer sugar-plums as a sort of composing gift.

My mistress accepts the gift, and has been to the theater at
Paris, with Monsieur and Madame Villeray more than once already.

To conclude, sir, if I might venture to advise you, I should
recommend trying the effect on Mrs. R. of absence and silence."

A most sensibly written letter. I shall certainly take Matilda's
advice. My name is never mentioned by Stella--and not a day has

passed without my thinking of her!
Well, I suppose a man can harden his heart if he likes. Let me

harden _my_ heart, and forget her.
The crew shall have three days ashore at Naples, and then we sail

for Alexandria. In that port the yacht will wait my return. I
have not yet visited the cataracts of the Nile; I have not yet

seen the magnificent mouse-colored women of Nubia. A tent in the
desert, and a dusky daughter of Nature to keep house for

me--there is a new life for a man who is weary of the vapid
civilization of Europe! I shall begin by letting my beard grow.

Fifth Extract.
Civita Vecchia, February 28, 1863.--Back again on the coast of

Italy--after an absence, at sea and ashore, of nine months!
What have my travels done for me? They have made me browner and

thinner; they have given me a more patient mind, and a taste for
mild tobacco. Have they helped me to forget Stella? Not the least

in the world--I am more eager than ever to see her again. When I
look back at my diary I am really ashamed of my own fretfulness

and impatience. What miserablevanity on my part to expect her to
think of me, when she was absorbed in the first cares and joys of

maternity; especially sacred to her, poor soul, as the one
consolation of her melancholy life! I withdraw all that I wrote

about her--and from the bottom of my heart I forgive the baby.
Rome, March 1.--I have found my letters waiting for me at the

office of my banker.
The latest news from St. Germain is all that I could wish. In

acknowledging the receipt of my last letter from Cairo (I broke
my rash vow of silence when we got into port, after leaving

Naples) Stella sends me the long desired invitation. "Pray take
care to return to us, dear Bernard, before the first anniversary

of my boy's birthday, on the twenty-seventh of March." After
those words she need feel no apprehension of my being late at my

appointment. Traveler--the dog has well merited his name by this
time--will have to bid good-by to the yacht (which he loves), and

journey homeward by the railway (which he hates). No more risk of
storms and delays for me. Good-by to the sea for one while.

I have sent the news of my safe return from the East, by
telegraph. But I must not be in too great a hurry to leave Rome,

or I shall commit a serious error--I shall disappoint Stella's
mother.

Mrs. Eyrecourt writes to me earnestly, requesting, if I return by
way of Italy, that I will get her some information about Romayne.