idnapped by a press-gang. Lambert had been
there a few days before.'

'Ah, I understand,' said the seaman--'too plain. Fire them--what right
have they to seize a free man as if he were a negro slave?'

'It's a shame,' said Mrs. Ally, 'but good King George--'

'Imbecile old ass,' said the mariner--'go on with your story.'

'The mother grieved for her son's absence--he wrote from the tender ship
asking for his clothes, and to buy off his discharge. She applied to the
Earl. He deceived her--gave her hope--promised to write to the
Admiralty--was sorry, but the necessities of the war were such,
substitutes were not allowed, and a discharge could not be granted.
Within a year the mother died, and Ellen was left alone. Beautiful,
helpless, with no one to protect her, was it a wonder she fell a victim
to the vile plot laid for her? Her seducer wearied of her after two
years, and offered to settle a pension upon her and wed her to his base
instrument Lambert. She spurned the offer, and left the cottage where he
had established her in splendid infamy. None knew whither she went, and
no tidings have since been heard of her.'

The seaman was pacing the floor in stern and gloomy silence. He paused.
'And him?--what became of him?'

'He came back three years after,' said the landlady, 'in sailor's garb,
but without a seaman's manner. He had learned dissipation, and was
gloomy and fierce. He had heard of his sister's shame, and he swore a
terrible revenge. The Earl was in London at the time, but had he been
here, Horace would have attempted nothing then. "I will not strike him
now," said he--"no! that were a poor revenge. I will tame his pride
first--then destroy him. Mine shall be no vulgar vengeance."--He however
wrote a passionate letter to the Earl demanding his acknowledgment of
his sister as his lawful wife, and threatening terrible vengeance. This
was idle, but I suppose it merely done to cover deeper designs. He
returned to sea--was absent two more years, but re-appeared here some
three months ago, since when he has been frequently seen about the
neighborhood, and is supposed to subsist by poaching. Curly Tom, the
ruffian you captured last night, has been much with him. He has again
written to the Earl something which has made him furious--so your father
told me, who had been there, the good old man, trying to make him forego
his pursuit of poor Horace. There will be something terrible, I am sure.
God help us, and avert i