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21

No answer was returned, and a dead silence ensued until they came to the first stage of changing horses.

Fleming, on the appearance of the light, turned to look at his neighbour, and beheld the pale skeleton of a young woman, who seemed fast sinking into the grave, and scarcely able to sit upright. "Odds, my life, poor soul," said he, "you seem to want ballast, it will never do to steer this course—why did you not steer into the cabin? "

"Because, because," replied she tremulously, "it was not convenient ——— I have more air here."

"Yes, yes; but a few such squalls as we had some time ago, may turn you overboard: you are not steady enough, my good lass, to keep your course here."

He then called for some grog and biscuits, and jumped off to look in at the windows of the coach.

"Ay, ay, here's plenty of room; here, you steersman, open the coach door, and let us help that poor young woman into this berth."

"Why, I have no objection, master," answered the coachman, "but you know outside and inside passengers are different things—who's to pay the difference of the fare?"

"Why, I will," cried Fleming.

"No, no," exclaimed the invalid, "I entreat you, Sir, I am very well here: indeed I am—I will not get inside—pray leave me as I am."

"Look ye, young woman," returned the lieutenant, "you are upon a slippery forecastle, you may be hove overship in the dark, and founder before help can come to ye. So no more words, my conscience wont let me see you in danger, for I shant sit easy with you at my stern; so do, my good soul, let me put you safe under hatches, out of the way of the squalls and foul weather."

The poor young woman saw it was in vain to contend with her humane neighbour, and however repulsive to her own feelings to accept the obligation, she was as little calculated to support the fatigues of her situation as unable to pay the additional expense. She, therefore, with tears dropping on her cheeks, silently permitted herself to be placed in the coach, nor did she reject the biscuit, though she declined the grog.

"Mayhap," said he, "a gill of warm wine will do you more good; and, without waiting a reply, he dashed off, and presently returned with it, entreating her to drink of it. Not to disappoint him, she sipped a small quantity, and pressing his hand said, "God bless you."

The manner and the words shot through the heart of the poor lieutenant; but a summons from the coachman to resume