She was
then many miles out to sea, her thoughts perhaps still lingering
behind with her old life, but bound soon to overtake her, and to pass
far ahead to the world she was sailing for, the world of her
long-cherished desires.
I shall briefly relate a part of what she afterward recounted to me.
The voyage from New York to Bristol lasted six weeks. She suffered
much from her cramped quarters, from the cold weather, from
seasickness; but she bore up against her present afflictions, in the
hope of future compensations. She put away from her, with the facility
of an ambitious beauty, alike her regrets for the past, and her
misgivings of the future.
Not to risk any increase of those misgivings, she refrained from
questioning Ned as to his resources, nor did she require of him a
minute exposition of his plans. She preferred to leave all to him and
to circumstance, considering that, once launched upon the sea of
London, and perfectly unrestricted as to her proceedings, she could
make shift to keep afloat. She had an earnest of the power of her
beauty, in its effect upon the ship's captain, who, in the absence of
passengers, was the only person aboard whose admiration was worth
playing for. She had the place of honour at his table, and in her
presence he was nothing but eyes and dumb confusion, while the
extraordinary measures he took for her comfort proclaimed him her
willing slave.
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