state of quiescence that seemed to indicate a
mind unhinged. In this state she remained for some time, apparently
unconscious of the kind words of Christian love that were addressed to
her.

At last she seemed to rouse herself and gazed wildly round the room.

"Let me go," she said. "I will find him somewhere. Don't hinder me,
please."

"But you cannot go anywhere till you have had food and rest, dear
child," said her sympathetic comforter, laying her hand gently on the
girl's arm. "Come with me."

She sought to lead her away, but the girl shook her off.

"No," she exclaimed, starting up hastily, so that the mass of her dark
hair fell loose upon her shoulders, contrasting forcibly with the dead
whiteness of her face and lips. "No. I cannot go with you. Fred will
be getting impatient. D'you think I'll ever believe it? Dead and
buried in the sea? Never!"

Even while she spoke, the gasp in her voice, and the pressure of both
hands on her poor heart, told very plainly that the young widow did
indeed believe it.

"Oh! may God Himself comfort you, dear child," said the lady, taking her
softly by the hand. "Come--come with me."

Mrs Martin no longer refused. Her spirit, which had flashed up for a
moment, seemed to collapse, and without another word of remonstrance she
meekly suffered herself to be guided to a private room, where she was
put to bed.

She never rose from that bed. Friendless, and without means, she would
probably have perished in the streets, or in one of the dens of
Portsmouth, had she not been led to this refuge. As it was, they nursed
her there, and did all that human skill and Christian love could devise;
but her heart was broken. Towards the end she told them, in a faint
voice, that her Fred had been stationed at Alexandria, and that while
there he had been led to put his trust in the Saviour. She knew nothing
of the details. All these, and much more, she had expected to hear from
his own lips.

"But he will tell me all about it soon, thank God!" were the last words
she uttered as she turned her eyes gratefully on the loving strangers
who had found and cared for her in the dark day of her calamity.

CHAPTER FIVE.

DIFFICULTIES MET AND OVERCOME.

Miles and his friend Brown, after their work at the jetty, had chanced
to return to the Institute at the moment referred to in the last
chapter, when the poor young widow, having become resigned, had been led
through the passag