the rent of the
shop and house without an income. She was assured that all hope of the
return of Shadrach and his sons was vain, and she reluctantly consented
to accept the asylum of the Lesters' house. Here she was allotted a room
of her own on the second floor, and went and came as she chose, without
contact with the family. Her hair greyed and whitened, deep lines
channeled her forehead, and her form grew gaunt and stooping. But she
still expected the lost ones, and when she met Emily on the staircase she
would say morosely: 'I know why you've got me here! They'll come, and be
disappointed at not finding me at home, and perhaps go away again; and
then you'll be revenged for my taking Shadrach away from 'ee!'

Emily Lester bore these reproaches from the grief-stricken soul. She was
sure--all the people of Havenpool were sure--that Shadrach and his sons
could not return. For years the vessel had been given up as lost.

Nevertheless, when awakened at night by any noise, Joanna would rise from
bed and glance at the shop opposite by the light from the flickering
lamp, to make sure it was not they.

It was a damp and dark December night, six years after the departure of
the brig _Joanna_. The wind was from the sea, and brought up a fishy
mist which mopped the face like moist flannel. Joanna had prayed her
usual prayer for the absent ones with more fervour and confidence than
she had felt for months, and had fallen asleep about eleven. It must
have been between one and two when she suddenly started up. She had
certainly heard steps in the street, and the voices of Shadrach and her
sons calling at the door of the grocery shop. She sprang out of bed,
and, hardly knowing what clothing she dragged on herself; hastened down
Emily's large and carpeted staircase, put the candle on the hall-table,
unfastened the bolts and chain, and stepped into the street. The mist,
blowing up the street from the Quay, hindered her seeing the shop,
although it was so near; but she had crossed to it in a moment. How was
it? Nobody stood there. The wretched woman walked wildly up and down
with her bare feet--there was not a soul. She returned and knocked with
all her might at the door which had once been her own--they might have
been admitted for the night, unwilling to disturb her till the morning.

It was not till several minutes had elapsed that the young man who now
kept the shop looked out of an upper window, and saw the skel