y have set
me all that distance back again, or so much further ahead, for anything I
knew of the matter. At sunset I took an anxious survey of the horizon, to
see if any sail were in sight; but nothing was visible.

Another tranquil night gave me another tranquil night's rest. I call the
last tranquil, as it proved to be in one sense, though I was sorely
troubled with dreams. Had I been suffering for nourishment, I certainly
should have dreamed of food; but, such not being the case, my thoughts
took the direction of home and friends. Much of the time, I lay half
asleep and half awake; then my mind would revert to my sister, to Lucy, to
Mr. Hardinge, and to Clawbonny--which I fancied already in the possession
of John Wallingford, who was triumphing in his ownership, and the success
of his arts. Then I thought Lucy had purchased the place, and was living
there with Andrew Drewett, in a handsome new house, built in the modern
taste. By modern taste, I do not mean one of the Grecian-temple school, as
I do no think that even all the vagaries of a diseased imagination that
was suffering under the calamities of shipwreck, could induce me to
imagine Lucy Hardinge silly enough to desire to live in such a structure.

Towards morning, I fell into a doze, the fourth or fifth renewal of my
slumbers that night; and I remember that I had that sort of curious
sensation which apprises us itself, it was a dream. In the course of the
events that passed through my mind, I fancied I overheard Marble and Neb
conversing. Their voices were low, and solemn, as I thought; and the words
so distinct, that I still remember every syllable.

"No, Neb," said Marble, or seemed to say, in a most sorrowful tone, one I
had never heard him use even in speaking of his hermitage. "There is
little hope for Miles, now. I felt as if the poor boy was lost when I saw
him swept away from me, by them bloody spars striking adrift, and set him
down as one gone from that moment. You've lost an A. No. 1. master,
Mister Neb, I can tell you, and you may sarve a hundred before you fall in
with his like ag'in."

"I nebber sarve anoder gentleum; Misser Marble," returned the black;
"_dat_ as sartain as gospel. I born in 'e Wallingford family, and I lib
an' die in 'e same family, or I don't want to lib and die, at all. My real
name be Wallingford, dough folk do call me Clawbonny."

"Ay, and a slim family it's got to be!" rejoined the mate. "The nicest,
and the handsomest,