concerning Lanrean. Will you come home?
Will you come with me, Kitty?"

Kitty answered not a word, but rose sobbing,
with the end of her simple head-dress at her
eyes. Captain Jorgan followed the lovers out,
quite sheepishly: pausing in the shop to give
an instruction to Mr. Pettifer.

"Here, Tom!" said the captain, in a low
voice. " Here's something in your line. Here's
an old lady poorly and low in her spirits. Cheer
her up a bit, Tom. Cheer 'em all up."

Mr. Pettifer, with a brisk nod of intelligence,
immediately assumed his steward face, and went
with his quiet helpful steward step into the
parlour: where the captain had the great
satisfaction of seeing him, through the glass door,
take the child in his arms (who offered no
objection), and bend over Mrs. Raybrock,
administering soft words of consolation.

"Though what he finds to say, unless he's
telling her that it'll soon be over, or that most
people is so at first, or that it'll do her good
afterwards, I can not imaginate!" was the
captain's reflection as he followed the lovers.

He had not far to follow them, since it was
but a short descent down the stony ways to the
cottage of Kitty's father. But, short as the
distance was, it was long enough to enable the
captain to observe that he was fast becoming the
village Ogre; for, there was not a woman
standing working at her door, or a fisherman
coming up or going down, who saw Young
Raybrock unhappy and little Kitty in. tears,
but she or he instantly darted a suspicious
and indignant glance at the captain, as the
foreigner who must somehow be responsible for
this unusual spectacle. Consequently, when they
came into Tregarthen's little garden—which
formed the platform from which the captain had
seen Kitty peeping over the wall—the captain
brought to, and stood off and on at the gate,
while Kitty hurried to hide her tears in her own
room, and Alfred spoke with her father who was
working in the garden. He was a rather infirm
man, but could scarcely be called old yet, with
an agreeable face and a promising air of making
the best of things. The conversation began on
his side with great cheerfulness and good
humour, but soon became distrustful and soon
angry. That was the captain's cue for striking
both into the conversation and the garden.

"Morning, sir!" said Captain Jorgan. "How
do you do?"

"The gentleman I am going away with,"
said the young fisherman to Tregarthen.

"Oh!" returned Kitty's father, surveying the
unfortunate captain with a look of extreme
disfavour. "I confess that I can't say I am glad
to see you."

"No," said the captain, "and, to admit the
truth, that seems to be the general, opinion in
these parts. But don't be hasty; you may
think better of me, by-and-by."

"I hope so," observed Tregarthen.

"Wa'al, I hope so," observed the captain,
quite at his ease; "more than that, I believe so
—though you don't. Now, Mr. Tregarthen,
you don't want to exchange words of mistrust
with me; and if you did, you couldn't, because
I wouldn't. You and I are old enough to know
better than to judge against experience from
surfaces and appearances; and if you haven't
lived to find out the evil and injustice of such
judgments, you are a lucky man."

The other seemed to shrink under this
remark, and replied, " Sir, I have lived to feel it
deeply."

"Wa'al," said the captain, mollified, "then I've
made a good cast, without knowing it. Now,
Tregarthen, there stands the lover of your only
child, and here stand I who know his secret. I
warrant it a righteous secret, and none of his
making, though bound to be of his keeping. I
want to help him out with it, and tewwards that
end we ask you to favour us with the names
of two or three old residents in the village of
Lanrean. As I am taking out my pocket-
book and pencil to put the names down, I may
as well observe to you that this, wrote atop of
the first page here, is my name and address:
'Silas Jonas Jorgan, Salem, Massachusetts,
United States.' If ever you take it in your head
to run over, any morning, I shall be glad to
welcome you. Now, what may be the spelling of
these said names?"

"There was an elderly man," said Tregarthen,
"named David Polreath. He may be
dead."

"Wa'al," said the captain, cheerfully, "if
Polreath's dead and buried, and can be made
of any service to us, Polreath won't object to
our digging of him up. Polreath's down, anyhow."

"There was another, named Penrewen. I
don't know his Christian name."

"Never mind his Chris'en name," said the
captain. "Penrewen for short."

"There was another, named John Tredgear."

"And a pleasant-sounding name, too," said
the captain;" John Tredgear's booked."

"I can recal no other, except old Parvis."

"One of old Parvis's fam'ly, I reckon," said
the captain, "kept a dry-goods store in New
York city, and realised a handsome competency
by burning his house to ashes. Same name, anyhow.
David Polreath, Unchris'en Penrewen,
John Tredgear, and old Arson Parvis."

"I cannot recal any others, at the moment."

"Thankee," said the captain. "And so,
Tregarthen, hoping for your good opinion yet,
and likewise for the fair Devonshire Flower's,
your daughter's, I give you my hand, sir, and
wish you good day."

Young Raybrock accompanied him disconsolately;
for, there was no Kitty at the window
when he looked up, no Kitty in the garden when
he shut the gate, no Kitty gazing after them
along the stony ways when they began to climb
back.

"Now I tell you what," said the captain.
"Not being at present calc'lated to promote
harmony in your family, I won't come in. You
go and get your dinner at home, and I'll get mine
at the little hotel. Let our hour of meeting be