at the name of her favourite, and in
terms of present love and fondness. I now saw that I had not known the
depth of "a first love," otherwise I should not have advised this
unhappy marriage, all advantageous as it was in a worldly point of view.
A sailor's life, however, is one of manifest risk, and in less than a
twelvemonth Sarah M'Guffock was a young widow, without incumbrance, and
with her rights to her just share of the captain's effects. Her sorrow
for the death of her husband was, I believe, sincere; but I observed
that she took an early opportunity of joining her sisters in her old
habitation, immediately beneath that still tenanted by the friends of
Laing.

Matters were in this situation, when I was surprised one evening, whilst
sitting meditating in the manse of Kilrenny, about dusk, with a visit
from a tall and well-dressed stranger. He asked me at once if I could
give him a private interview for a few minutes, as he had something of
importance to communicate. Having taken him into my study, and shut the
door, I reached him a chair, and desired him to proceed.

"I had left the parish," said the stranger, "before you were minister of
Kilrenny, in the time of worthy Mr. Brown, and therefore you will
probably not know even my name. I am Thomas Laing!"

"I did not indeed," said I, "know you, but I have heard much about you;
and I know one who has taken but too deep an interest in your fate. But
how comes it," added I, beginning to think that I was conversing either
with a vision or an impostor--"how comes it that you are here, seemingly
alive and well, whilst we have all been assured of your death some years
ago?"

The stranger started, and immediately exclaimed--"Dead!--dead!--who said
I was dead?"

"Why," said I, "there was a letter came, I think, to your own father,
mentioning your death by fever in the West Indies."

"Do I look like a dead man?" said the stranger; but, immediately
becoming absent and embarrassed, he sat for a while silent, and then
resumed:--"Some one," said he, "has imposed upon my dear Sarah, and for
the basest of purposes. I now see it all. My dear girl has been sadly
used."

"This is, indeed, strange," said I; "but let me hear how it is that I
have the honour of a visit from you at this time and in this place?"

"Oh," replied Thomas Laing (for it was he in verity), "I will soon give
you the whole story:--

"When I left this, fourteen years ago come the time, I embarked at
Gre