Being now sane, the boundary-wall of his memory
was shifted. He remembered his whole life up
to his demanding his cash back of Richard
Hardie: and there his reawakened mind stopped
dead short. Being asked if he knew William
Thompson, he said, "Yes, perfectly. The man
was a foretopman on board the Agra, and rather
a smart hand. The ship being aground, he came
out to sea on a piano: but we cut the hawser,
and he got safe ashore." His recovered reason
rejected with contempt as an idle dream all that
had happened while that reason was in defect.
The last phenomena I have to record were bodily;
one was noted by Mr. Georgie White in these
terms: "Billy's eyes used to be like a seal's: but
now he is a great gentleman they are like yours
and mine." The other was more singular: with
his recovered reason came his first grey hair,
and in one fortnight it was all as white as
snow.

He remained a fortnight on board the Vulture,
beloved by high and low. He walked the quarter-deck
in the dress of a private gentleman, but
looking like an admiral. The sailors touched
their hats to him with a strange mixture of
veneration and jocoseness. They called him
among themselves Commodore Billy. He was
supplied with funds by Reginald, and put on
board a merchant ship bound for England. He
landed, and went straight to Barkington. There
he heard his family were in London. He came
back to London, and sought them; a friend told
him of Green; he went to him, and of course
Green saw directly who he was. But able men
don't cut business short; he gravely accepted
David's commission to find him Mrs. Dodd. Finding
him so confident, David asked him if he thought
he could find Richard Hardie, or his clerk, Noah
Skinner; both of whom had levanted from
Barkington. Green, who was on a hot scent as to
Skinner, demurely accepted both commissions;
and appointed David to meet him at a certain
place at six.

He came; he found Green's man, who took
him up-stairs, and there was that excited group
determining the ownership of the receipt.

Now to David that receipt was a thing of
yesterday. "It is mine," said he. They all
turned to look at this man, with sober passionless
voice, and hair of snow. A keen cry from Julia's
heart made every heart there quiver, and in a
moment she was clinging and sobbing on her
father's neck. Edward could only get his hand
and press and kiss it. Instinct told them Heaven
had given them their father back mind and all.

Ere the joy and the emotion had calmed
themselves, Alfred Hardie stepped out and ran like a
deer to Pembroke-street,

Those who were so strangely reunited could
not part for a long time, even to go down the
stairs one by one.

David was the first to recover his composure:
indeed, great tranquillity of spirit had ever since
his cure been a remarkable characteristic of this
man's nature. His passing mania seemed to
have burnt out all his impetuosity, leaving him
singularly sober, calm, and self-governed.

Mr. Compton took the money and the will,
and promised the executrix Skinner should be
decently interred and all his debts paid out of
the estate. He would look in at 66 by-and-by.

And now a happy party wended their way
towards Pembroke-street.

But Alfred was beforehand with them: he went
boldly up the stairs, and actually surprised Mrs.
Dodd and Sampson together.

At sight of him she rose, made him a low
curtsey, and beat a retreat. He whipped to the
door, and set his back against it. "No," said
he, saucily.

She drew back astonished, and the colour
mounted in her pale face. "What, sir, would
you detain me by force?"

"And no mistake," said the audacious boy.
"How else can I detain you? when you hate me
so?"  She began to peep into his sparkling eyes
to see the reason of this strange conduct.

"C'way from the door, ye vagabin," said
Sampson.

"No, no, my friend," said Mrs. Dodd,
trembling, and still peering into his sparkling
eyes. " Mr. Alfred Hardie is a gentleman at all events:
he would not take this liberty with me, unless
he had some excuse for it."

"You are wonderfully shrewd, mamma," said
Alfred, admiringly. "The excuse is I don't hate
you as you hate me; and I am very happy,"

"Why do you call me mamma to-day? Oh
doctor, he calls me mamma."

"Th' audacious vagabin."

"No, no, I cannot think he would call me that
unless he had some good news for us both?"

"What good news can he have, except that
his trial is goin' well, and you don't care for
that."

"Oh, how can you say so? I care for all that
concerns him: he would not come here to
insult my misery with his happiness. He is
noble, he is generous, with all his faults. How
dare you call me mamma, sir! Call it me again,
my dear child: because then I shall know you
are come to save my heart from breaking." And
with this, the truth must be told, the stately
Mrs. Dodd did fawn upon Alfred with palms
outstretched and piteous eyes, and all the cajoling
arts of her sex.

"Give me a kiss then, mamma," said the
impudent boy, " and I will tell you a little bit of good
news."

She paid the required tribute with servile
humility and readiness.

"Well then," said Alfred, and was just going to
tell her all, but caught sight of Sampson making
the most expressive pantomime to him to be
cautious. "Well," said he, "I have seen a
sailor."

"Ah!"

"And he is sure Mr. Dodd is alive."

Mrs. Dodd lifted her hands to Heaven but
could not speak. "In fact," said Alfred, hesitating