pled; and not by this means only.'

'But if this sailor be so grateful, why did he not come to our poor
friend's help?' I said indignantly; but Harry said, sighing,--

'A destitute seaman! why, there be throngs of them and their wives
starving in the streets, and cursing the navy officers because they
cannot get their own hard wages. And this was why my poor fellow showed
such frantic joy on seeing me--'twas for love of Andrew; he hurried his
tidings on me, and bade me hasten to the gaol and relieve my friend;
himself going there with me, else I had not sped so well.'

Now how Harry sped at the prison I learnt afterwards; for at this point
his tale was cut short; but I will put the story here, where it seems
fittest.

By great good fortune Althea encountered with Harry and the seaman Ned
Giles at the very gate of the prison, and she soon bought leave to visit
the prisoner called William Dewsbury, who lay under lock and key in a
very filthy cell, and had latterly been denied even bread and water,
because his money being spent he could not satisfy his gaoler's demands.
They found him lying on a heap of mouldy straw; he was miserably wasted,
and to all seeming lifeless; yet they knew him at once for Andrew; and
Harry perceived there was life yet in him. Althea, however, seeing him
lie as if dead, rose into fiery indignation; she turned to the gaoler,
saying, in a terrible voice,--

'See there, murderer! that is your work--the blood of this man shall lie
on your soul for ever--it shall drown you in perdition!' at which he
cowered and shrank ('and well he might,' said Harry), stammering out
'twas an oversight, a pure accident; and she going on to threaten him
with law and vengeance, he asked hurriedly, would not the lady like to
remove the poor man, and give him honourable burial? at which Harry
whispered her, 'Take his offer quickly; say not a word more of revenge;'
and Althea, guessing his meaning, softened her tone a little, and
consented to the man's proposal. 'Get me only a coach,' said she, 'and I
will have this poor lifeless body to mine own home; and I will not
charge you with the murder.'

So they fetched a coach; but the driver, seeing as he thought a dead man
brought out and laid in it, flung down the reins and refused to drive
them.

'I am well used to drive sick folks,' he said (indeed that was now the
chief use of hackney coaches), 'but a corpse I never drove and never
will.'

Althea, however, stepped