There were people drinking tea at the tables outside. I heard the occasional cry of a baby, the voices of children, the murmur of men and women conversing. Mrs. Richards informed me that those people were second-class passengers, who inhabited this part of the ship. ‘Are there many passengers in all?’ I asked. ‘Oh yes, the ship is full of men and women,’ she replied. ‘Where do they come from?’ ‘The ship sailed from London. The people joined her at the docks, or at Gravesend, from all parts of the kingdom.’ ‘Oh,’ cried I, clasping my hands, ‘if there were but a single person amongst the crowds on board--a single person who knew me, who would be able to pronounce my name and tell me where my home is--if, indeed, I have a home!’ ‘Well, who knows but there may be such a person?’ said the stewardess. ‘Big as this world is, we are constantly running against friends or acquaintances. Everybody is asking after you. All my ladies, all the people I attend on, make inquiries after you every time I see them. There is a dear old lady on board, Mrs. Lee; she is the mother of the poor consumptive girl. Not half an hour ago, as I was passing through the saloon, Mrs. Lee left her chair and said to me, “Mrs. Richards, if there is anything that I or my daughter can do for the poor lady who was rescued this morning, I beg you will enable us to serve her. I fear she is without clothes,” said Mrs. Lee. “How could it be otherwise, indeed? Now my daughter and I have plenty of clothes, and the poor lady is welcome to whatever she wants.”’ ‘How good of her!’ I exclaimed. ‘Thank her, thank her for me, Mrs. Richards.’ ‘She is a dear old lady, and her daughter is the sweetest of girls. Oh dear! oh dear! that the hand of Death should be drawing closer and closer to steal away so much beauty and gentleness.’ ‘Is it known that--that----’ ‘That you have lost your memory?’ I sank my head. ‘Why, yes. News flies fast on board ship. And why should it not be known? Your not having your memory will explain a great deal.’ ‘What will it explain?’ ‘For instance, your having no name.’ ‘My initials are A. C.,’ said I, and I pronounced the letters several times over, and cried out, ‘What can they stand for?’ ‘But would you know your name if you saw it?’ said the stewardess. ‘I cannot tell.’ As I made this answer the door was quietly rapped. ‘Come in,’ said the stewardess, and the captain entered. The stewardess rose, and stood as though a royal personage had walked in, and then made a step to the door. ‘Do not go away, Mrs. Richards,’ cried Captain Ladmore. ‘I am glad to see that you are carefully attending to the lady’--and he asked me if I felt better. I answered that I felt very much better, and that I did not know how to express the gratitude which all the kindness I had received and was receiving had filled my heart with. He pulled a chair and seated himself near me.