y could realise what had happened.

"Your father has gone, Nelly, but he has gone to heaven, and is happier
far than he ever was or ever could be down on earth even in the best of
times. Bad times may be coming, and God in His love and mercy took him
that he might escape them."

"But, then, why didn't God take us?" asked Nelly, looking up. "I would
have liked to die with him. Bad times will be as hard for us to bear as
for him."

"God always does what is best, and He has a reason for keeping us on
earth," answered the dame. "He has kept me well-nigh fourscore years,
and given me health and strength, and good courage to bear whatever I
have had to bear, and He will give you strength, Nelly, according to
your need."

"Ah, I was wicked to say what I did," answered Nelly; "but I am sad
about father and you and myself, and very sad, too, about Michael. He
will grieve so when he comes home and finds father gone, if he comes at
all. And, O granny, I begin to fear that he won't come home! what has
happened to him I cannot tell; and if you had seen the heavy sea there
was rolling outside you would fear the worst."

"Still, Nelly, we must trust in God; if He has taken Michael, He has
done it for the best, not the worst, Nelly," answered Dame Lanreath.
"But when I say this, Nelly, I don't want to stop your tears, they are
given in mercy to relieve your grief; but pray to God, Nelly, to help
us; He will do so--only trust Him."

CHAPTER FIVE.

The day was drawing to a close when the storm, which had been
threatening all the morning on which Paul Trefusis died, swept fiercely
up the harbour, showing that the wind had again shifted to the westward.

Poor Nelly, though cast down with grief at her father's death, could not
help trembling as she thought of Michael, exposed as she knew he must be
to its rage. Was he, too, to be taken away from them?

She was left much alone, as Dame Lanreath had been engaged, with the
assistance of a neighbour, in the sad duty of laying out the dead man.
Nelly several times had run out to look down the harbour, hoping against
hope that she might see Michael's boat sailing up it.

At length, in spite of the gale, she made her way to Reuben Lanaherne's
cottage. His wife and daughter were seated at their work, but he was
not there. Agitated and breathless from encountering the fierce wind,
she could scarcely speak as she entered.

"Sit down, maiden; what ails thee?" said Dame Lanahe