ad been little John's greatest
treasure. There had come over her such a rush of memories of the happy
days of the past, gone, as she believed, for ever, of the father whose
fingers had so busily carved the boat for his boy, but who would never
come back to her again, and of the little lad passing away from her
also, and leaving his treasured toy behind him. All these sad but lovely
memories came before her, as she took up the little boat and pressed it
to her lips. They came so strongly and with such power, that the tears
which had refused to come before came with them, and brought, as I felt
sure they would, wonderful relief to her over-strained heart.

'Polly,' I said, 'cheer up, don't lose heart; I believe little John will
recover.'

'Thank you, sir, thank you,' she said; as she dried her eyes. 'I feel
better now, a deal better, I do. You _have_ been good to me, sir.
I'll go up again to him now.'

'All right, Polly,' I said; 'I'll make up the fire, and then I'll come
and help you. He's asleep now, Polly.'

'I'll creep quietly up, then, sir,' she said, and I saw as she rose to
go that the stony look had gone out of her face and that she was herself
again.

That sleep lasted for hours. It was a quiet night, the wind had quite
gone down, and everything seemed more still after the tumult of the
previous night. I was glad to see that Polly herself at length fell
asleep in her chair; little John's hand lay in hers, and I knew she
would wake with his least movement; but I was pleased to see it, for I
felt sure that even a light sleep would soothe and strengthen her.

I had just looked at my watch, and had seen that it was nearly half-past
two, when I thought I heard footsteps outside, and a moment afterwards
there came a gentle knock at the door. It seemed a strange time for a
visitor, but I thought probably it was some neighbour come to offer to
help Polly in her long night watch, or perhaps it was Mr. Christie come
to see how we were getting on. I crept softly downstairs, lest either
Polly or the child should wake, and carefully unfastening the bolts I
opened the door.

I nearly yelled with joy when I saw who was standing there. Never in all
my life have I been more glad to see any man than I was that night to
see Duncan, alive and uninjured, whilst all day long I had been
picturing him being driven backwards and forwards by the waves, a
drowned corpse at the mercy of the relentless sea.

He grasped my hand and