August, the 7th day.

When I began this tale of our captivity it was with the hope that I might find some means of sending it to friends, in this country or in England, who would interest themselves in obtaining our release. However, from what Mr. Collins told me, I feel assured that news of Mr. Rivers's capture has already been sent to their Lordships the proprietors, and this record of mine seems now but wasted labour. Yet from time to time, for my own solace, I shall add to it; and perchance, some day in safety and freedom, I and——another——may together read its tear-stained pages.

This day I have completed the seventeenth year of my age. It is a double anniversary, for one year ago this night—it being the eve of our departure from England—I first set eyes upon my dear love.

Can it be possible that he, in his dolorous prison, has taken account of the passing days and remembers that night—a year ago? 'Twould be liker a man if he took no thought of the date till it was past,—yet I do greatly wonder if he has forgotten.

As for me, the memory has lived with me all these hours since I unclosed my eyes at dawn.

I can see now the brightly lighted cabin of the Carolina, where the long supper-table was laid for the many passengers who were to set out on the morrow for a new world. I had been somehow parted from my uncle, Dr. Scrivener, and I stood in the cabin doorway half afraid to venture in and meet the eyes of all the strangers present. I felt the colour mounting warmly in my cheek, and my feet were very fain to run away, when Captain Henry Brayne, the brave and cheery commander of the frigate, caught sight of me, and, rising hastily, led me to a seat at his own right hand.

(I do recollect that I wore a new gown of fine blue cloth—a soft and tender colour, that became me well.)

As I took my place I glanced shyly round, and saw, at the farther end of the long table, the gallantest gentleman I had ever set eyes upon in all my sixteen years of life. He was looking directly at me, and presently he lifted his glass and said:

"Captain Brayne, I give you the Carolina and every treasure she contains!"

There was some laughter as the toast was drunk, and my uncle—who had only that moment entered and taken his seat beside me—asked of me an explanation.

"Nay, Dr. Scrivener," said the jovial captain, "'tis not likely the little lady was attending. But now I give you—the health of Mistress Tudor! (and it will not be the first time it has been proposed to-night!)"

And that was but a year ago. I would never have guessed that at seventeen I could feel so very old.