So he dragged out the valise from beneath the berth, while Shand abused him for the disturbance he made.

On the top, lying on the other volumes, which were as he had placed them, was a little book, prettily bound, by no means new, which he was sure had never been placed there by himself.

He took it up, and, standing in the centre of the cabin, between the light of the porthole and Dick's bed, he examined it.
It was a copy of Thomson's 'Seasons', and on the flyleaf was written in a girl's hand the name of its late owner,--Maria Shand.

The truth flashed upon him at once.

She must have gone down on that last night after he was in bed, and thus have made her little offering in silence, knowing that it would be hidden from him till he was far away from her.
'What book is that ?' said Shand suddenly, emerging with his head and shoulders from the low berth.
'A book of mine,' said Caldigate, disconcerted for the moment.
'What are you going to do with it ?' 'I am looking for something to lend to Mrs.Smith.' 'That is Molly's Thomson's "Seasons,"' said the brother, remembering, as we are so apt to remember the old thing that had met his eye so often in the old house.