d by the steward, who requested him to step down into the
cabin, "to take a look at the man as was picked up this morning; as he
seems to be took a bit worse, sir."

George at once went below, and found Walford sitting up in the berth,
muttering to himself disconnectedly and occasionally addressing with
great earnestness the watchful Tom, whose horror-stricken face plainly
revealed that his patient's random observations had been of a somewhat
startling character. On entering the state-room, Leicester at once
addressed Walford, asking him whether he felt better; and the
unfortunate man glanced for a moment in George's face with an air of
semi-recognition; but this immediately passed away, and the incoherent
mutterings went on again as before.

"That's just how he've been goin' on for the last half-'our," explained
Tom; "talkin' about `murder' and `hangin',' and being left to burn in
the ship; it's enough to give one the 'orrors to listen to him."

George sat down by the side of the cot and listened patiently for nearly
an hour to Walford's rambling talk; and, although he was unable to make
out from it a clearly-connected story, he heard enough to give him a
shrewd idea of the truth, and to convince him that a terrible tragedy of
some kind had occurred on board the ill-fated _Princess Royal_. The
patient at length grew calm once more, and, lying back upon his pillow,
seemed inclined to sleep, upon which George quietly rose and went on
deck again to see how matters were proceeding there.

As he meditatively made his way up the companion-ladder, he could not
help thinking of the singularity of this last meeting between him and
his rival, and comparing it with the one which had occurred on that
lovely June evening, on the road to Stoke. As the two men stood there
on the white dusty road, with the rays of the declining sun darting down
upon them through the foliage of the overhanging trees, and as Walford
told the story of his just concluded engagement to Lucy, how little,
thought George, could either of them suspect that, when they next came
into such close contact, it would be literally on the bosom of the broad
Atlantic, up-borne by nothing save its restless waters. Poor Leicester
was greatly disturbed by this singular and unconscious claim upon his
hospitality which had so recently arisen. He was as generous-hearted a
man as the sun ever shone upon, ever ready to give liberally and
ungrudgingly to any one who seem