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"And you, too," he whispered. "With all this, I have you, too.",

He was a tall, lank man, rather knock-kneed, with a long neck, and, which was very[Pg 269] unusual in those days, his chin was garnished with a quantity of straggling reddish hair. His face looked as though it had been put together without much judgment. His nose, which was broken, was not in line; his mouth was somewhat on one side, one eyebrow was raised and the other depressed. His eyes were small, of a deep, moist, soft blue. He had served in the American Navy, and had much to tell about Yankee captains and commodores. He was dressed in the garb of the common sailor, and it is not wonderful that Mr Lawrence should decline to meet him at table, which, if it did not make their footing equal, must bring them into relations the fastidious, haughty, handsome naval officer would regard in an uncommon degree objectionable.,

"What was the story, sir?" asked Lucy.,

"Hoist the ensign!" exclaimed Mr Lawrence.

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Her rising from the table had caused the gentlemen to rise. They went on deck. Lucy said she was tired and would be glad to take some rest; her accommodation on board the Louisa Ann was very wretched, and she had scarcely been able to sleep on account of the gruff voices, the alarming creaking and groaning noises, and a strange hideous smell which probably came from the cargo, all which she must always associate in memory with the Louisa Ann. She wished however to see the Aurora, and for some minutes she stood on the deck with her father and the Admiral beside her, gazing[Pg 386] round the picture as though entranced. Once again her lovely eyes seemed to brood even in their glances; they appeared to dwell with a dreamy delight on what they beheld. Through her parted lips the sweet breeze rushed, and the hair upon her brow flickered like shadows cast by the wavering of a silver flame.,

Scroggie nodded. "Drowned through an air-hole in the lake. Say, Billy, do you skate?",

Av the gurril ye loved on the Isle 'cross the sea—,

The man waited outside for Mr Lawrence. When he appeared he seized his hand, and fell upon his crooked knees and kissed and slobbered his hand, and blubbered, with tears trickling down his face, "that so help him his good God, come what might he would do anything, no matter what, to serve his honour, he would die for his honour; let his honour command him to jump into the river then and there and drown himself, he'd do it if only to please him." His gestures whilst on his knees, his extraordinary grimaces, the strange, wild terms in which he expressed his pathetic gratitude for this condescension of a gentleman in taking notice of, and rescuing from gaol a poor, pitiful vagabond, a child of the parish,[Pg 119] a no man's son, nor woman's either, a creature who lived he could not tell how, sometimes by stealing a raw vegetable, sometimes by running an errand, sometimes by the bounty of a tradesman who might fling him a crust, or of some drunken fisherman who might toss him a shilling to sing him a song and dance as he sang, a performance so hideously uncouth that Hogarth would have immortalised it could he have witnessed it; his gratitude, in short, was so diverting, at the same time moving in its appeal to pity, that Mr Lawrence could scarcely forbear a laugh, and indeed did laugh when he got rid of the fellow and walked away.