rt and still ruddy in the face, the other attenuated and ghastly,
as might have been expected of one who had, as it were, died a double
death.

We will not dwell on the terrible scene. While Jack and Captain Samson
remained to attend to the dead, Wilkins set off, without delay, to be
first, if possible, in breaking the sad news to his friend's family,
according to promise.

In regard to the wreck, it is sufficient to say that she, with all her
precious freight was scattered on the rugged coasts of Cornwall, and our
adventurers stood once more on their native shores without even the
means of paying their travelling expenses home. They did not like to
speak of their invested wealth, fearing that their statements might be
disbelieved. They therefore stood literally in the position of beggars.

In this extremity they found the hospitable men of Cornwall to be
friends indeed and full of sympathy.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

RETURN OF THE WANDERER.

Great was the anxiety of Edwin Jack as he walked, with light foot and
fluttering heart, over the Border hills and drew near to the old home.
He had not heard from his father for nearly a year. Were they all well?
had they struggled out of their difficulties with the funds he had sent
them. Was there no empty chair? Such and similar thoughts hurried
through his mind as he went along, until he was forced to run for
relief. There was a rocky ridge of land in front of him. From the top
of this he knew the cottage could be seen. Panting with exertion when
he gained the top, he sat down on a mass of rock and gazed at the old
place till tears disturbed his vision. There it stood as of yore--no
change in the general aspect of things, though there did seem one or two
improvements about the cottage. But he did not gaze long. Starting up
again he hurried on.

At last he stood in the midst of the old home-circle--all well, and,
thank God, not one absent!

Philosopher though he was, he could not reason down the tears of joy
that blinded, and the lump in his throat that well-nigh choked him.
After the first wild miscellaneous embrace all round was over, Jack (or
Teddie, as the home-circle called him) found relief by catching up
Dobbin and burying his face in his neck and curls, regardless of the
treacle with which that gentleman was plentifully besmeared.

"I've got bad news for you, Teddie, my boy," said his father, after they
had moderated a little.

"Nobody ill or--dead?"