nd for
my preservation from so great a danger.

At last I was pronounced well enough and strong enough to get up and
appear in public. A barber, who was going his rounds, came in, and
shaved me and cut my hair, and my head and face were all to rights, so
that I looked as well as ever, only my ribs hurt me a little, and my
limbs felt somewhat stiff.

The old gentleman came to my room when I was ready. "Take my arm," said
he kindly; "you will find it rather strange walking at first, and your
knees will shake a little."

I could not refuse his kind offer, though I thought that I could have
walked very well by myself. He led me into the large hall, and there,
seated by a window at the further end, looking out on the sea, I
observed two young women. One was dressed in black, the other in some
sober colour or other. They were both at the moment bending down over
their knitting, and talking in a low voice to each other, so that they
did not observe our entrance.

We had got three-quarters of the way across the room, and the old
gentleman was giving me a chair to sit down on, when the noise it made
over the floor caused them to look up. There sat one I had so long
thought of, whom I had come to search for, Margaret Troall.

She looked at me in a strange, bewildered way, still she knew me, and
yet she could not believe her senses. She tried to rise from her chair
to come towards me, but something seemed to keep her back. She drew her
breath quickly, as if she would have wished to have spoken, but could
not. I felt that I ought to speak first.

"They told you I was dead, Miss Margaret," said I, and I know my voice
trembled very much, and I know that had I not leant on the chair I
should have fallen. "They were mistaken; I went to Plymouth only
lately, and found you were no longer there; and when I discovered that
you had gone north, I came here to seek you."

She recovered herself while I was speaking, and rising from her seat,
came up and gave me her hand. I do not say that there was anything very
extraordinary in the action, but I know that it made me very happy. Her
friends at first looked very much astonished; but a few words served to
explain matters, and then they were doubly glad that they had had the
opportunity of being of so much service to an old friend of their young
relative.

I found that the name of my host, the uncle of Miss Troall, was David
Angus, and that the place where the smack had been