ked in a whisper, as four men advanced with slow
measured tread bearing between them the form of a man.

"David," he said, while an irrepressible sob convulsed him.

For one moment the comely face of Maggie wore an expression of horror;
then she broke from Joe, ran quickly back, and, seizing Mrs Bright in
her arms, attempted in vain to speak.

"What--what's wrong, Maggie?"

The poor sympathetic young wife could not utter a word. She could only
throw her arms round her friend's neck, and burst into a passion of
tears.

But there was no need for words. Mrs Bright knew full well what the
tears meant, and her heart stood still while a horror of darkness seemed
to sink down upon her. At that moment she heard the tread of those who
approached.

Another minute, and all that remained of David Bright was laid on his
bed, and his poor wife fell with a low wail upon his inanimate form,
while Billy sat up on his couch and gazed in speechless despair.

In that moment of terrible agony God did not leave the widow utterly
comfortless, for even in the first keen glance at her dead husband she
had noted the Bethel-Flag, which he had shown to her with such pride on
his last holiday. Afterwards she found in his pocket the Testament
which she had given to him that year, and thus was reminded that the
parting was not to be--for ever!

We will not dwell on the painful scene. In the midst of it, Ruth
Dotropy glided in like an angel of light, and, kneeling quietly by the
widow's side, sobbed as if the loss had been her own. Poor Ruth! She
did not know how to set about comforting one in such overwhelming grief.
Perhaps it was as well that she did not "try," for certainly, in time,
she succeeded.

How Ruth came to hear of the wreck and its consequences was not very
apparent, but she had a peculiar faculty for discovering the locality of
human grief, a sort of instinctive tendency to gravitate towards it,
and, like her namesake of old, to cling to the sufferer.

Returning to her own lodging, she found her mother, and told her all
that had happened.

"And now, mother," she said, "I must go at once to London, and tell
Captain Bream of my suspicions about Mrs Bright, and get him to come
down here, so as to bring them face to face without further delay."

"My dear child, you will do nothing of the sort," said Mrs Dotropy,
with unwonted decision. "You know well enough that Captain Bream has
had a long and severe illness, and cou