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"Yep." Caleb bent and scrutinized the basket.,

"You had it in your hand when th' ghost poked its blue tongue in our faces," affirmed Maurice. "I saw it.",

With broadening day the gale had strengthened. Stanhope felt a few stinging snow-pellets on his face, as he gazed, unseeing, outward and waited with tense nerves for the hail of his young friend. Half an hour passed—it seemed like hours to the man waiting, hoping, fearing—and still Billy did not come. He replenished the fire and, his hand coming in contact with the coat which Billy had discarded, he held it on his knees, close to the little stove. Slowly the minutes dragged past and a cold dread of what might have happened grew in the blind man's heart. Billy had likely reached the boat only in time to see it founder and in striving to save its exhausted occupants——.,

"He felt the light," said the boy, "an' he sang all the way back home."

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Captain Acton walked half the length of the extent of deck they were pacing, before he spoke. "Your dear mother," said he calmly, "whose genius as an actress I cannot[Pg 410] help thinking has descended to you, though never once in all your life have you given me reason for suspecting the existence of a gift, not wonderful by mere power of mimicry, but astonishing by its art of persuading and convincing the beholder that what he sees is the living thing itself: your sweet and blessed mother, though a staunch upholder of her sex, was fond of a saying which she had found in Pope:,

"Yes ma'am," admitted Maurice cheerfully. "I guess I should'a told you first off but Ma she said if you was busy not to say anythin' 'bout her breakin' it.",

Billy had heard that when one comes face to face with death the misdeeds of the life about to go out crowd into one brief second of darting reality before one. He had never quite believed it but he believed it now. If only he might have his misspent life to live over again! Never again would he steal Deacon Ringold's melons or swap broken-backed, broken-bladed jack-knives for good ones with the Sand-sharks, nor frighten his brother Anson with tales of witches and goblins. But that chance was not for him. It was, perhaps, natural that his last earthly thought would be of her. Her sweet face shone through the choking mists—her trembling lips were murmuring a last "good bye." Did she know what a wonderful influence her entrance into his heart had exerted toward his reform? With an effort he opened his eyes. The white, gliding thing was almost upon him now. He tried to shake off frozen terror and run. He could not move a muscle. He groaned and shut his eyes tight, waiting for the icy touch of a spirit-hand. It found him after what seemed an eternity of waiting—but it was very soft and warm instead of clammy and cold and the voice which spoke his name was not in the least sepulchral.,

"It was in 1802; a Naval dinner was given at Bath—St Vincent was First Lord, I need not tell you—his health was proposed and refused to be drunk by many of the company. The party broke up in confusion; some toasted him in a bumper and left the room; others turned down their glasses and sat still. And you would rank this old gentleman next after Nelson?"