ve found it so; as it was, he could
scarcely have told whether he was going down the stream or up, whether
it was wet or dry. He could see but one thing--the image of Frederick
Massingbird.

As the boat drew up to the Temple Pier, the only person waiting to
embark was a woman; a little body in a faded brown silk dress. Whether,
seeing his additional freight was to be so trifling, the manager of the
steamer did not take the usual care to bring it alongside, certain it
is, that in some way the woman fell, in stepping on board; her knees on
the boat, her feet hanging down to the water. Lionel, who was sitting
near, sprang forward and pulled her out of danger.

"I declare I never ought to come aboard these nasty steamers!" she
exclaimed, as he placed her in a seat. "I'm greatly obliged to you, sir;
I might have gone in, else; there's no saying. The last time I was
aboard one I was in danger of being killed. I fell through the
port-hole, sir."

"Indeed!" responded Lionel, who could not be so discourteous as not to
answer. "Perhaps your sight is not good?"

"Well, yes it is, sir, as good as most folks, at middle age. I get timid
aboard 'em, and it makes me confused and awkward, and I suppose I don't
mind where I put my feet. This was in Liverpool, sir, a week or two ago.
It was a passenger-ship just in from Australia, and the bustle and
confusion aboard was dreadful--they say it's mostly so with them vessels
that are coming home. I had gone down to meet my husband, sir; he has
been away four years--and it's a pity he ever went, for all the good he
has done. But he's back safe himself, so I must not grumble."

"That's something," said Lionel.

"True, sir. It would have been a strange thing if I had lost my life
just as he had come home. And I should, but for a gentleman on board. He
seized hold of me by the middle, and somehow contrived to drag me up
again. A strong man he must have been! I shall always remember him with
gratitude, I'm sure; as I shall you, sir. His name, my husband told me
afterwards, was Massingbird."

All Lionel's inertness was gone at the sound of the name. "Massingbird?"
he repeated.

"Yes, sir. He had come home in the ship from the same port as my
husband--Melbourne. Quite a gentleman, my husband said he was, with
grand relations in England. He had not been out there over long--hardly
as long as my husband, I fancy--and my husband don't think he has made
much, any more than himself has."

Lio