indeed a long time. And why have you but just now come to see me, Darby, in all these years ?" He spoke so calmly that the honest sailor felt almost hurt; he had expected something more of old memories to stir him but Philip had not only in half accepted the teaching of life. Darby told him how he had but then revisited England for the first time. Again there was silence, while the host did the honours of his hospitable table. How we sometimes misinterpret the silence, as well as the words, of our neighbour. At the very moment poor Will was inwardly cursing his own folly at having come to awaken in the mind of the rich man unpleasant reminiscences, and attributing to pride his silence on a topic which Darby knew must be present alike to the minds of both-Philip was seeking how to soften the painful details of his family history, and revolving how best he could requite the attachment, without hurting the feelings, of his old companion and friend. 66 So they had sat for some minutes; when Steyne rose, and taking from a cabinet a small and beautifully executed painting, he put it before his visitor, saying, "You know it, Darby ?" Yes, Darby knew it, his absorbed attention told he did. They are all there, all at peace," Philip said in a low voice. The sailor looked up, with an exclamation. In a few words Steyne then told his father's and mother's fate, adding what he had learned from Hinton of his sister's death. He had since caused inquiry to be made; had extracted all the evidence forged by the lying prizefighter, and failing to discover the place of her burial, No. 23. 2 A yet crediting the story of her death, he had erected, near the graves of his parents, a small monument to her memory. "They are cared for," he said, "I have seen to that, though I have never yet been there. I shall not till -till—” he laid his hand upon the other's shoulder; then added, "They will be avenged, Darby." But the rough sailor hardly listened: the tidings he had just heard were so terrible, so unlike any he had anticipated. The coldness or estrangement of his friend would have less shocked him. In his heart, so long closed during his solitary wanderings to all domestic affections, the image of the innocent child, as he had last seen her, had dwelt with a fidelity unknown even to himself. He remembered her, the light of her home, the idol of her brother; that brother he looked up at Steyne, he clasped his hand. "God help you, Phil!" he said; "your grief has been great indeed-forgive me!" He forgot the other was unaware of his thoughts; but Steyne returned the pressure in silence-passed his hand across his brow. In ten minutes more the self-possessed and urbane man, playing the host with earnest cordiality, had locked away his grief with the picture of the old church of Piert's Rest. He was vexed that Darby would accept no service at his hands, not even the hospitality of his house. But the independent seaman needed nothing, save the assurance of his old friend's good-will, which was strengthened on both sides by the discovery of the tie which bound them in enmity against the vice which had cursed the lives of both; and Philip rejoiced to find in his newly-found friend as zealous a decrier of every form of alcoholic sin as himself. A FRESH THREAD. 355 But Will Darby felt, despite himself, that between his path and that of his old companion there must lie henceforth a wide separation; and with a heavy heart, and but little repining at the fate which would send him again forth upon the ocean in a few short weeks, he quitted the house of his friend to start that evening for the visit home, which the last few hours had robbed of half its joy. But capricious Fate had put her veto upon his intent, all-righteous as it was; she had other work for him to do. Arrived at his hotel, he found awaiting him one of the men from his ship, with a face full of anxiety. "It's Sam, sir, has got badly hurt, unlading; they've taken him to the hospital, and he'd give 'em no peace till he'd seen you. He's got a notion as he won't get over it, and it's like he'd something on his mind he wants to tell you, and nobody else. I believe he's not altogether right in his head, and I beg pardon for troubling you, but he takes on so." Darby, who was to the full as much loved as obeyed among the men, gave the little required assurance of his sorrow, and willingness to comply with the wounded man's request, and in a very short time was on his way to the hospital, guided by the messenger. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIRST. A DEATH-BED. Hark! that hollow knock-behold the warder openeth. WE weary of remarking on the inscrutability of Fate. It required such good-nature as that of Darby to accept unruffled the utterly needless and unjustifiable interruption of his journey, imposed by the groundless fears of a terror-stricken and half-witted man, who imagined he was going to die, and had summoned the kind-hearted mate, as the only friend he possessed in the world; but that good fellow was only too glad to soothe the fears of his protegé with the assurance of his most probable recovery, and that the projected confession might be safely delayed. I say the summons to the hospital had been so far utterly needless; yet how singularly by it is this wanderer of years to be connected with matters more nearly concerning others, whom yet the wilful dame ignores in the casting of her many-hued distaff. He was quitting the building, when the staircase was suddenly blocked by an ascending crowd. Hustling upon one another came young men with faces full of professional eagerness and excitement; others below kept back the crowd, closing doors upon them; commands, entreaties, exclamations, mingled with oaths. and abuse-while above all rose the groans and blasphemies of a man borne in a hastily contrived litter, by six others. Darby and his companion drew back as the crowd, now consisting only of the medical men and attendants, came rapidly on to the accident ward, and they beheld a sight not easy to forget. A huge form lay strapped upon the litter, stripped to the shirt-sleeves, which were tucked up: blood was pouring from a ghastly gash upon his head, it rained down upon eyes and mouth, dripped from hair and ears, trickled upon his naked arms, tracked the white floor, had mocked at the cloth wrapped in the moment round the wound, crimsoned and soaked it. One eye was closed by a blow, the cheek below swollen to the nose, the lip was cut through to the teeth, with every word the blood gushed from it; yet it hindered not a moment the torrent of horrid blasphemy that the man poured out unceasingly upon all around-upon his antagonist, his bearers, the doctors, himself. It was necessary to loose him from the straps; but the instant he felt his hands free he half raised himself, struck madly at the surgeons, tore off the temporary bandage, and, but for instant restraint, would have injured some one. "It's the Bulldog, the great prizefighter," whispered one of the young men to Darby; "he's half killed the other down at Lang Natham's-but they got him away, Isn't it horrid to hear the fellow? By Jove, how he bleeds! He's been drunk these ten days -makes it no better for him." The remedies applied had stayed the effusion of |