ake advantage of my old friend's offer--at least for a night
or two?"

"No, I won't refuse that, Jim; see, I am prepared to go," she said,
pointing to a wooden sea-chest which stood in the middle of the room;
"my box is packed. Everything I own is in it. The furniture, clock,
and bedding belong to the landlord."

"Come then, my own poor lamb," said the young sailor tenderly, "let us
go."

Nora rose and glanced slowly round the room. Few rooms in Ramsgate
could have looked more poverty-stricken and cheerless, nevertheless,
being associated in her mind with those whom she had lost, she was loath
to leave it. Falling suddenly on her knees beside the bed, she kissed
the old counterpane that had covered the dead form she had loved so
well, and then went hastily out and leaned her head against the wall of
the narrow court before the door.

Jim lifted the chest, placed it on his broad shoulders and followed her.
Locking the door behind him and putting the key in his pocket, he gave
his disengaged arm to Nora, and led her slowly a way.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

TELLS OF AN UNLOOKED-FOR RETURN, AND DESCRIBES A GREAT FEAST.

If, as we have elsewhere observed in this narrative, time and tide wait
for no man, it is not less true that time and tide work wonderful
changes in man and his affairs and fortunes. Some of those changes we
will now glance at, premising that seven years have passed away since
the occurrence of the events recorded in our last chapter.

On the evening of a somewhat gloomy day in the month of sunny showers,
four men of rough aspect, and clad in coarse but not disreputable
garments, stopped in front of a public-house in one of the lowest
localities of London, and looked about them. There was something quite
peculiar in their aspect. They seemed to be filled with mingled
curiosity and surprise, and looked somewhat scared, as a bird does when
suddenly set free from its cage.

Two of the men were of an extremely low type of humanity--low-browed and
scowling--and their language betokened that their minds were in keeping
with their faces. The other two were better-looking and better-spoken,
one of them having evidently been a handsome man in his day. His hair
was blanched as white as snow although it still retained the curls of
youth. His figure was much bent, and he appeared like one who had been
smitten with premature old age.

"Well, uncommon queer changes bin goin' on here," said one of th