They were both "willing" to obey, but certainly not "able," on account of the rolling and lurching of the vessel; and without a moment's delay, the mate and Rowland lifted them in their arms, and carried them up to the deck.

"Cover them up warm, and lash them to the mast," said the captain, in tones which admitted of neither questioning nor delay.

The brawny, weather-beaten fellows began their task, but evidently they were in some trepidation lest they should give more pain than was needful to the trembling women, and they hesitated now and then, questioning them anxiously.

"Speed ye, speed ye, my men!" shouted the captain, as his quick eye perceived this. "Waste no time! time is Life!"

"Ay, ay, sir, Life it is!" was the reply, as the brave fellows reluctantly left the two women closely lashed to the ship's mast.

"My pretty birdie, this will kill thee, sweet!" exclaimed the weeping Mistress Bridget; then raising her voice, she called out with far more boldness than the chief mate would have ventured to shew towards his commander, "Master! master! cannot ye put Mistress Maud elsewhere? The bitter wind will be her death!"

"Peace!" shouted the captain, "I have put both Maud and thee at the farthest point from death that can be found aboard the ship!"

"Cover her up warmer, master!"

"Silence, dame! the warm coverings be all afloat down below by this."

"All afloat!" groaned poor Bridget in her helplessness. "All afloat! then, forsooth, we came not up hither any too soon, for there is water i' the cabins!"

The men were now working vigorously at the pumps, hour after hour they laboured with a strong will, for their efforts were for nothing less than dear life.

At length the water was considerably lowered, the cabins were cleared, and there began to be hope that the ship would yet reach her port. The gale abated, and the movements of the "Lioness grew comparatively steady, the sailors looked hopeful, and the captain encouraged them by some well-deserved words of praise for their gallant service during the storm. Maud and her nurse were removed from their painful position and restored to the cabin, but poor Maud needed all the tender care of Dame Bridget.

And she had it. Dame Bridget, with her own wet garments clinging about her, never for one moment rested till the girl's dripping clothes were removed, and the warmest coverings on board were wrapped about her.

Then Bridget bade the pretty Maud lie down and rest in the most sheltered corner that could be

H

found, and there sat the good old woman beside her, sometimes speaking a word or two of comfort, sometimes quietly holding the thin little hand of her weakly charge.

"Dost feel better, sweet mistress?" asked the nurse, after Maud had seemed to sleep a little. "Dost feel refreshed after thy sleep, pretty bird?"

"Nurse," was the reply, "I would fain see my father, I have somewhat to say to him afore I go."

Bridget started, and fixed her eyes earnestly upon the pallid face of the young girl, then said in low, husky tones,

"What meaneth my pretty mistress?"

"Nurse, lay thine head on the pillow, close to mine, so that I can smooth thy white hair, and kiss thy dear soft cheek, and I will whisper to thee. Listen! I shall ne'er be out in another storm, because I am a-going where storms ne'er come."

"Going, sweet?" replied the dame, as she rose up and cast a searching troubled look into the face of Maud. "Going, going, my birdie! Nay, nay, that cannot be. The pretty child is wandering in her mind. The fierce storm has brought on a touch of delirium. I'll e'en summon the master, mayhap he can pacify her."

Captain Lily came and sat beside his daughter, and with no glimmer of delirium in her eyes she looked up at him.

"Father," said she, "I am a-dying, and I want

you to bear with me when I beg you to be always as true to your God as you are to your gallant ship and her crew. Methinks that if you had not been a stern commander in that fearful gale, all aboard must have perished, and the brave 'Lioness' have been left a poor wreck; but instead of that ye are all living men, and the ship will, belike, get into port, an' only a weak girl who could ill brave the tempest shall be left behind."

Large drops of perspiration gathered upon the face of the captain, and his lips quivered as he raised his child in his arms, and said,

"Nay, nay, little Maudie! nay, nay, sweet! you must not talk of leaving me thus!"

They watched her lovingly till the storm and the swell that followed it had both subsided. But Maudie's forewarning was true. They watched her till God sent for her, and then, perforce, these weeping human friends left her to the care of God's own messengers, while they wrapped the frail little body in its winding sheet; and by and by the captain himself read solemn words over it, and rough men wept and prayed, while the ship's officers gently, reverently lifted the tiny burthen over the side of the "Lioness," and tenderly eased it down, down, until the calm ocean closed over the fragile form which had held the now freed spirit of gentle Maud Lily.

CHAPTER XIV

AFTER THE CHASTENING.

"I'll be as patient as a gentle stream,
And make a pastime of each weary step,

Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest * *

Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

ULE TIDE again, and once more the yule log burns briskly upon the notary's hearth. There sits the weather-browned Rowland on a visit, after his safe arrival home, off his first voyage. He is looking down into the gentle face of his mother, who is seated beside him, with a fixed eager gaze.

"Yea, it is so, truly," says sweet Mistress Norton; "he did turn out a traitor, and was empty-headed withal; and Kitty laid the whole thing before me with many tears; not tears of disappointment concerning the silly page, but tears of sorrow for her own fault in hiding the matter from me at the first; and now, in these times of bitter persecution for our faith, our Kitty is our stay; she is as bold