with a cargo of 'trayne oyle brought home from the New
Founde Lande,' to quote from the town records of the date. During his
absence of two summers and a winter, which made up the term of a
Newfoundland 'spell,' many unlooked-for changes had occurred within the
quiet little seaport, some of which closely affected Roger the sailor. At
the time of his departure his only sister Edith had become the bride of
one Stocker, a respectable townsman, and part owner of the brig in which
Roger had sailed; and it was to the house of this couple, his only
relatives, that the young man directed his steps. On trying the door in
Quay Street he found it locked, and then observed that the windows were
boarded up. Inquiring of a bystander, he learnt for the first time of
the death of his brother-in-law, though that event had taken place nearly
eighteen months before.

'And my sister Edith?' asked Roger.

'She's married again--as they do say, and hath been so these twelve
months. I don't vouch for the truth o't, though if she isn't she ought
to be.'

Roger's face grew dark. He was a man with a considerable reserve of
strong passion, and he asked his informant what he meant by speaking
thus.

The man explained that shortly after the young woman's bereavement a
stranger had come to the port. He had seen her moping on the quay, had
been attracted by her youth and loneliness, and in an extraordinarily
brief wooing had completely fascinated her--had carried her off, and, as
was reported, had married her. Though he had come by water, he was
supposed to live no very great distance off by land. They were last
heard of at Oozewood, in Upper Wessex, at the house of one Wall, a timber-
merchant, where, he believed, she still had a lodging, though her
husband, if he were lawfully that much, was but an occasional visitor to
the place.

'The stranger?' asked Roger. 'Did you see him? What manner of man was
he?'

'I liked him not,' said the other. 'He seemed of that kind that hath
something to conceal, and as he walked with her he ever and anon turned
his head and gazed behind him, as if he much feared an unwelcome pursuer.
But, faith,' continued he, 'it may have been the man's anxiety only. Yet
did I not like him.'

'Was he older than my sister?' Roger asked.

'Ay--much older; from a dozen to a score of years older. A man of some
position, maybe, playing an amorous game for the pleasure of the hour.
Who knoweth but that he have a