d tremble for a moment, and then passed
on. The steersman at once threw her up into the wind with the intention
of rendering assistance, but in another minute the _Lively Poll_ had
sunk and disappeared for ever, carrying Peter Jay and Hawkson along with
her.

Of course several boats pushed off at once to the rescue, and hovered
about the spot for some time, but neither the men nor the vessel were
ever seen again.

There was a smack at some distance, which was about to quit the fleet
next morning and return to port. The skipper of it knew well which
vessel had been run down, but, not being near enough to see all that
passed, imagined that the whole crew had perished along with her.
During the night the breeze freshened to a gale, which rendered fishing
impossible. This vessel therefore left the fleet before dawn, and
carried the news to Gorleston that the _Lively Poll_ had been run down
and sunk with all her crew.

It was Fred Martin's wife who undertook to break this dreadful news to
poor Mrs Lockley.

Only those who have had such duty to perform can understand the struggle
it cost the gentle-spirited Isa. The first sight of her friend's face
suggested to Mrs Lockley the truth, and when words confirmed it she
stood for a moment with a countenance pale as death. Then, clasping her
hands tightly together, the poor woman, with a cry of despair, sank
insensible upon the floor.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE LAST.

But the supposed death of Stephen Lockley did not soften the heart of
his wife. It only opened her eyes a little. After the first stunning
effect had passed, a hard, rebellious state of mind set in, which
induced her to dry her tears, and with stern countenance reject the
consolation of sympathisers. The poor woman's heart was breaking, and
she refused to be comforted.

It was while she was in this condition that Mrs Mooney, of all people,
took it into her head to visit and condole with her neighbour. That
poor woman, although a sot, was warm-hearted, and the memory of what she
had suffered when her own husband perished seemed to arouse her
sympathies in an unusual degree. She was, as her male friends would
have said, "screwed" when she knocked at Mrs Lockley's door.

The poor creature was recovering from a burst of passionate grief, and
turned her large dark eyes fiercely on the would-be comforter as she
entered.

"My dear Mrs Lockley," began Mrs Mooney, with sympathy beaming on her
red coun