ated!" muttered North, turning his face from the wind.
"The storm that helped me two days ago proves treacherous now."

"Come!" shouted Mellen, lashing the cable to a stunted pine that grew in
a cleft of the rock, "come up to the house, we shall find a fire there
and a glass of brandy. The old man will send some of his people for the
luggage."

North made no answer, but moved off towards the house, which he passed,
walking moodily towards the village. Mellen went up to the tavern.

CHAPTER XXIII.

DEAD AND GONE.

Lights shone cheerfully through the uncurtained windows of the Sailor's
Safe Anchor, and the stranger could see the inmates of the dwelling
gathered about the tea-table, looking comfortable enough to make a
strong contrast to the chill and darkness without.

"There is not the least change," he muttered, drawing his cloak more
closely about him; "I could almost think I had been gone only since
morning, instead of two years."

He hurried on to the house, and hardly waiting for his imperative knock
to be answered, pushed open the door and entered the kitchen. The old
fisherman looked tranquilly up at the intruder, keeping his knife poised
in one hand, not easily ruffled in his serenity, while the younger
members of the family stared with all their might at the tall man, whose
garments were dripping wet, driven by the storm into their dwelling.

"Good evenin', sir," said the old man; "it's a dark, wet night--wont you
sit down?"

"I want a horse and a man," said Mellen, betraying by the haste in which
he spoke, and his impatient movements, that he was too hurried for much
attention to the old man's attempt at civility. "I want to go to the
other end of the bay--can you let me have a horse and some one to look
after my luggage?"

"What, to-night?" demanded the old man. "Why you can't want to go round
the bay to-night."

"I should not have come for a horse if I had not wished to get home,"
said Mellen, impatiently. "Get one out at once, Benson; I am in great
haste."

"'Taint a decent night to put a dog out o' doors," returned the
fisherman; "it's a good deal mor'n likely you'd get swamped in the
marsh, if I let the hoss go."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Mellen. "I know this part of the country too well
for that. There is no more risk than in this room."

The old man's obstinacy was roused, and he had a full share of that
unpleasant quality when he chose to call it into action.

"Mebby you know mo