od old days left to discover
their losses as best they might.

Anne's conviction of her loss increased with the darkening of the early
winter time. Bob was not a cautious man who would avoid needless
exposure, and a hundred and fifty of the Victory's crew had been disabled
or slain. Anybody who had looked into her room at this time would have
seen that her favourite reading was the office for the Burial of the Dead
at Sea, beginning 'We therefore commit his body to the deep.' In these
first days of December several of the victorious fleet came into port;
but not the Victory. Many supposed that that noble ship, disabled by the
battle, had gone to the bottom in the subsequent tempestuous weather; and
the belief was persevered in till it was told in the town and port that
she had been seen passing up the Channel. Two days later the Victory
arrived at Portsmouth.

Then letters from survivors began to appear in the public prints which
John so regularly brought to Anne; but though he watched the mails with
unceasing vigilance there was never a letter from Bob. It sometimes
crossed John's mind that his brother might still be alive and well, and
that in his wish to abide by his expressed intention of giving up Anne
and home life he was deliberately lax in writing. If so, Bob was
carrying out the idea too thoughtlessly by half, as could be seen by
watching the effects of suspense upon the fair face of the victim, and
the anxiety of the rest of the family.

It was a clear day in December. The first slight snow of the season had
been sifted over the earth, and one side of the apple-tree branches in
the miller's garden was touched with white, though a few leaves were
still lingering on the tops of the younger trees. A short sailor of the
Royal Navy, who was not Bob, nor anything like him, crossed the mill
court and came to the door. The miller hastened out and brought him into
the room, where John, Mrs. Loveday, and Anne Garland were all present.

'I'm from aboard the Victory,' said the sailor. 'My name's Jim Cornick.
And your lad is alive and well.'

They breathed rather than spoke their thankfulness and relief, the
miller's eyes being moist as he turned aside to calm himself; while Anne,
having first jumped up wildly from her seat, sank back again under the
almost insupportable joy that trembled through her limbs to her utmost
finger.

'I've come from Spithead to Pos'ham,' the sailor continued, 'and now I am
goi