hen he was the joy
as well as the support of his mother, and _so_ fond of me--but he was
always that; even after he had--"

Again Nora paused, and, drooping her head, uttered the low wail of
desolation that went like cold steel to the young sailor's heart.

"Nora," he said earnestly, "he will get no drink where he is going. At
all events he will be cured of _that_ before he returns home."

"Oh, I bless the Lord for that," said Nora, with fervour. "I have
thought of that before now, and I have thought, too, that there are men
of God where he is going, who think of, and pray for, and strive to
recover, the souls of those who--that is; but oh, Jim, Jim, it is a
long, long, weary time. I feel that I shall never see my father more in
this world--never, never more!"

"We cannot tell, Nora," said Jim, with a desperate effort to appear
hopeful. "I know well enough that it may seem foolish to try to comfort
you with the hope of seein' him again in this life; and yet even this
may come to pass. He may escape, or he may be forgiven, and let off
before the end of his time. But come, cheer up, my darling. You
remember what his last request was?"

"How can you talk of such a thing at such a time?" exclaimed Nora,
drawing away from him and rising.

"Be not angry, Nora," said Jim, also rising. "I did but remind you of
it for the purpose of sayin' that as you agreed to what he wished, you
have given me a sort of right or privilege, dear Nora, at least to help
and look after you in your distress. Your own unselfish heart has never
thought of telling me that you have neither money nor home; this poor
place being yours only till term-day, which is to-morrow; but I know all
this without requiring to be told, and I have come to say that there is
an old woman--a sort of relation of mine--who lives in this town, and
will give you board and lodging gladly till I can get arrangements made
at the lighthouse for our--that is to say--till you choose, in your own
good time, to let me be your rightful protector and supporter, as well
as your comforter."

"Thank you, Jim. It is like yourself to be so thoughtful. Forgive me;
I judged you hastily. It is true I am poor--I have nothing in the
world, but, thanks be to God, I have health. I can work; and there are
some kind friends," she added, with a sad smile, "who will throw work in
my way, I know."

"Well, we will talk about these things afterwards, Nora, but you won't
refuse to t