Chapter 23

"If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady."
_Merchant of Venice_.

Next morning, I was early afoot, and I found Grace as much alive to
the charms of home, as I was myself. She put on a gypsy, and
accompanied me into the garden, where to my surprise, I found Lucy. It
looked like old times to be in that spot, again, with those two dear
girls. Rupert alone was wanting to complete the picture; but, I had
an intimate conviction that Rupert, as he had been at least, could
never come within the setting of the family group again. I was
rejoiced, however, to see Lucy, and more so, just where I found her,
and I believe told her as much with my eyes. The charming girl looked
happier than she had appeared the day before, or for many previous
days indeed, and I felt less apprehension than of late, concerning her
having met with any agreeable youth of a more _genteel_
profession than that of a merchant-captain.

"I did not expect to find you here, Miss Lucy," cried Grace, "eating
half-ripe currants, too, or my eyes deceive me, at this early hour in
the morning. It is not twenty minutes since you were in your own room,
quite unadorned."

"The green fruit of dear Clawbonny is better than the ripe fruit of
those vile New York markets!" exclaimed Lucy, with a fervour so
natural as to forbid any suspicion of acting. "I should prefer a
Clawbonny potatoe, to a New York peach!"

Grace smiled, and, as soon as Lucy's animation had a little subsided,
_she_ blushed.

"How much better would it be, Miles," my sister resumed, "could you be
induced to think and feel with us, and quit the seas, to come and live
for the rest of your days on the spot where your fathers have so long
lived before you. Would it not, Lucy?"

"Miles will never do _that_," Lucy answered, with emphasis. "Men
are not like us females who love everything we love at all, with our
whole hearts. Men prefer wandering about, and being shipwrecked, and
left on desert islands, to remaining quietly at home, on their own
farms. No, no; you'll never persuade Miles to do _that_."

"I am not astonished my brother thinks desert islands such pleasant
abodes, when he can find companions like Miss Merton on them."

"You will remember, sister of mine, in the first place, that Marble
Land is very far from being a desert island at all; and, in the next,
that I first found Miss Merton in Hyde Park, London; almost in the
canal, for that matter."

"I think it a little odd that Miles never told us all about this, in
his letters, at the time, Lucy.