udy,
was thrown back into the bottom of the boat; and, before he could
extricate himself, the boat was separated from the ship, and had drifted
to leeward.

"My child!" screamed the mother: "my child!"

"Pull to again, my lads!" cried Captain Ingram, seizing the tiller.

The men, who had been alarmed at the idea that the ship was going down,
now that they saw that she was still afloat, got out the oars and
attempted to regain her, but in vain--they could not make head against
the sea and wind. Further and further did they drift to leeward,
notwithstanding their exertions; while the frantic mother extended her
arms, imploring and entreating. Captain Ingram, who had stimulated the
sailors to the utmost, perceived that further attempts were useless.

"My child! my child!" screamed Mrs Templemore, standing up, and holding
out her arms towards the vessel. At a sign from the captain, the head
of the boat was veered round. The bereaved mother knew that all hope
was gone, and she fell down in a state of insensibility.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE OLD MAID.

One morning, shortly after the disasters which we have described, Mr
Witherington descended to his breakfast-room somewhat earlier than
usual, and found his green morocco easy-chair already tenanted by no
less a personage than William the footman, who, with his feet on the
fender, was so attentively reading the newspaper that he did not hear
his master's entrance. "By my ancestor, who fought on his stumps! but I
hope you are quite comfortable, Mr William; nay, I beg I may not
disturb you, sir."

William, although as impudent as most of his fraternity, was a little
taken aback. "I beg your pardon, sir, but Mr Jonathan had not time to
look over the paper."

"Nor is it required that he should, that I know of, sir."

"Mr Jonathan says, sir, that it is always right to look over the
_deaths_, that news of that kind may not shock you."

"Very considerate, indeed."

"And there is a story there, sir, about a shipwreck."

"A shipwreck! where, William? God bless me! where is it?"

"I am afraid it is the same ship you are so anxious about, sir,--the--I
forget the name, sir."

Mr Witherington took the newspaper, and his eye soon caught the
paragraph in which the rescue of the two negroes and child from the
wreck of the _Circassian_ was fully detailed.

"It is indeed!" exclaimed Mr Witherington. "My poor Cecilia in an open
boat! one of the boats was seen to go down