to his home and to
happiness, and I to sail down the Mediterranean, still in search of
rest and peace.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE VOICE OF GOD

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide, wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
--_The Ancient Mariner._

For a year I sailed the Mediterranean as a common seaman. I thought,
or rather, I hoped, that by hard work and mixing in the society of men
who had borne something of the brunt of life, besides visiting
different towns at which we had to call along the coast, I should
banish from my mind what became more and more terrible to me. It was a
vain hope.

At the end of the year I despaired of finding happiness or peace again.
"There is no such thing as forgiveness of sins!" I said, "and life is
but a bitter mockery."

Ofttimes I wondered what had become of them at home. At night time
especially I found myself thinking of Ruth and how she bore her
terrible trials, and this led me to wonder what had become of
Wilfred--had he ever been found, and, if so, had I been suspected of
his death? Naturally, Bill Tregargus would think of me; but would he
tell of his meeting with me? Then again, would Ruth feel it her duty
to denounce me as a murderer, even though I had saved her from the most
horrible fate imaginable? I knew how great was her sense of right; I
knew, too, how much she had loved me, and I did not know what course
she would take.

But never one ray of light, or hope, or comfort came in the thick
darkness. Sometimes I was tempted to drown my troubles in drink, but I
remembered my father's death, and refrained from doing so. Again I was
tempted to seek forgetfulness in what was unworthy, but I remembered
Ruth and was saved from that.

One day, about a year after I had left Salambo, the vessel in which I
was sailing arrived at Smyrna, where we had to stay some days. Towards
evening we were at liberty to go into the town, and I as usual strolled
away alone. I had not gone far, when, lying on the side of the street,
I saw a little crippled child who had apparently lost its way, or was
in some trouble, for it was sobbing bitterly. I came close and lifted
the child to its feet, and as I did so caught sight of its face. It
was a little girl about five years old. She was by no means pretty, on
the contrary, her face was almost evil, and for a moment I felt like
passing on without taking further notice, when the pr