that hope--hope for my boy--has gone. I can rest quiet now,
with my own damnation."

She put out a hand, protesting, but he turned from her--they were standing
face to face--and opening the door, stood aside to let her pass.

"I thank you for coming," he said gravely. "What I have told you--about
the inheritance, I mean--will be no secret after the next few days."

She halted and looked at him inquiringly. "It will be a secret safe with
me," she said. Her eyes still searched his.

For the second time he laughed. "The children will be home in a few days;
I wait here till then. That is all I meant."

In the dusk by the ferry-slip old Daddo stood ready to push off.
Hester was the only passenger, for it was Saturday, and on Saturdays, at
this hour, all the traffic flowed away from the town, returning from
market to the country.

Her eyes were red, and it may be that old Daddo noted this, for midway
across, and without any warning, he rested on his oars, scanning her
earnestly.

"You have been calling on Rosewarne, miss?--making so bold."

She nodded.

"I see'd you looking t'ards me just now as we crossed. I see'd you glance
up as _they_, in their foolishness, was reckoning they knew the mind o'
God. Tell me, miss, how he bears it?"

"He bears it; but without hope, for his trouble goes deeper."

CHAPTER XXVII.

HOME.

Mr. Benny, arriving next morning at the ferry to cross over to his office,
opened his eyes very wide indeed to see the boat waiting by the slip and
his late master, Samuel Rosewarne, standing solitary within it, holding on
to a shore-ring by the boat-hook.

"But whatever has become of Daddo?" Mr. Benny's gaze, travelling round,
rested for one moment of wild suspicion on the door of the 'Sailor's
Return,' hard by.

"With your leave he has given up his place to me for a while," said
Rosewarne slowly. "I have come to ask you that favour, Mr. Benny."

The little man stepped on board, wondering, nor till half-way across could
he find speech.

"It hurts me to see you doing this, sir; it does indeed. If old Nicky Vro
could look down and see you so demeaning yourself, you can't think but
he'd say 'twas too much."

"I did Nicky Vro an injury once, and a mortal one. But I never gave him
licence to know, on earth or in heaven, what my conscience requires.
It requires this, Mr. Benny; and unless you forbid it, we'll say no more."

The common opinion on both shores was that grie