n
such a storm, it was really impossible to proceed, and accordingly
returned to their lodgings, performing the distance in a fraction
of the time it had before taken them.

For some hours the gale continued to increase in fury. Not a soul
was to be seen in the streets. Occasional heavy crashes told of the
damage that was being wrought, and, at times, the house shook so
that it seemed as if it would fall.

Never was such a storm known in England. The damage done was
enormous. The shores were strewn with wrecks. Twelve ships of the
royal navy, with fifteen hundred men, were lost; and an enormous
number of merchant vessels. Many steeples, houses, and buildings of
all kinds were overthrown, and the damage, in London alone, was
estimated at a million pounds.

There were few who went to bed that night. Many thought that the
whole city would be destroyed. Towards morning, however, the fury
of the gale somewhat abated, and by nightfall the danger had
passed.

The next morning the two friends started, and posted down to
Lancashire. The journey was a long one. In many places the road was
completely blocked by fallen trees, and sometimes by the ruins of
houses and barns. In the former case, long detours had often to be
made through villainous roads, where the wheels sank almost to
their axles, and, in spite of the most liberal bribes to post boys
and post masters, the journey occupied four days longer than the
usual time.

At last, they reached the lodge gate of Lynnwood. A man came out
from the cottage. He was the same who had been there in Sir
Marmaduke's time.

Charlie jumped out of the post chaise.

"Why, Norman, don't you know me?"

The man looked hard at him.

"No, sir, I can't say as I do."

"What, not Charlie Carstairs?"

"Bless me, it is the young master!" the man said. "To think of my
not knowing you. But you have changed wonderful. Why, sir, I have
been thinking of you often and often, and most of all the last
three days, but I never thought of you like this."

"Why the last three days, Norman?"

"Haven't you heard the news, sir?"

"No, I have heard nothing. Captain Jervoise and I--my old friend,
you know, Norman--have posted all the way from London, and should
have been here six days ago, if it had not been for the storm."

"Well, sir, there is bad news; at least, I don't know whether you
will consider it bad. Most of the folk about here looks at it the
other way. But the man in there shot hisse