That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. Ruth did not resent the use of her mind and body in this tale of adventure. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. Completely overcome by fatigue, with strained muscles, and bruised hands; streaming with perspiration, and with lips so parched that he would gladly have parted with a treasure if he had possessed it for a draught of water; he sank against the wall, and while in this state was seized with, a sudden and strange alarm.
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