hrewsbury. It formed part of a small squadron which was
cruising on the eastern coast to watch over the intercourse between
France and Scotland, whether in the interest of the imprisoned Mary, or
of the Lords of the Congregation. He had obtained lodgings for
Mistress Susan at Hull, so that he might be with her when he put into
harbour, and she was expecting him for the first time since the loss of
their second child, a daughter whom he had scarcely seen during her
little life of a few months.

Moreover, there had been a sharp storm a few days previously, and
experience had not hardened her to the anxieties of a sailor's wife.
She had been down once already to the quay, and learnt all that the old
sailors could tell her of chances and conjectures; and when her boy
began to fret from hunger and weariness, she had left her serving-man,
Gervas, to watch for further tidings. Yet, so does one trouble drive
out another, that whereas she had a few days ago dreaded the sorrow of
his return, she would now have given worlds to hear his step.

Hark, what is that in the street? Oh, folly! If the Mastiff were in,
would not Gervas have long ago brought her the tidings? Should she
look over the balcony only to be disappointed again? Ah! she had been
prudent, for the sounds were dying away. Nay, there was a foot at the
door! Gervas with ill news! No, no, it bounded as never did Gervas's
step! It was coming up. She started from the chair, quivering with
eagerness, as the door opened and in hurried her suntanned sailor! She
was in his arms in a trance of joy. That was all she knew for a
moment, and then, it was as if something else were given back to her.
No, it was not a dream! It was substance. In her arms was a little
swaddled baby, in her ears its feeble wail, mingled with the glad shout
of little Humfrey, as he scrambled from the cradle to be uplifted in
his father's arms.

"What is this?" she asked, gazing at the infant between terror and
tenderness, as its weak cry and exhausted state forcibly recalled the
last hours of her own child.

"It is the only thing we could save from a wreck off the Spurn," said
her husband. "Scottish as I take it. The rogues seem to have taken to
their boats, leaving behind them a poor woman and her child. I trust
they met their deserts and were swamped. We saw the fluttering of her
coats as we made for the Humber, and I sent Goatley and Jaques in the
boat to see if anything lived.