"From your manner you would be no Englishman, sir, saying such pretty
things without consideration."
"I have been long out of England."
"Then your sorrow will not be so great for parting with all you have
held dear. Lucky is your lot."
"You have never been to America?" I asked.
"I had never been out of Scotland until I came south to take ship
today. Ah, sir, there is a great sorrow at my heart for the country
I love."
We said nothing while you might have counted ten, and in the silence
she looked away from me.
"I hope you will sing often," I said fatuously.
"I sing as the feeling comes to me," she retorted.
She gathered her cloak around her, and shut her cabin door.
"And you go with us to New York?" I asked--no less fatuously.
Her eyes danced with a glint of humor.
"Pray, sir, will there be any other stopping-place in the ocean!"