“The storm was over, an’ in rowing ’atwixt the piers, I sor summut that looked like the thing I sought, hanging, as it wor, to the planking of the pier. I steered for the place, an’, God o’ heaven! it wor the body of my son! He wor just two feet below the water, hanging with his head downwards. The force of the waves had driven him upon an iron stauncheon, which extended some distance from the pier, the woodwork to which it belonged had been wrenched away in the storm. It had passed right through Harry’s body, and held him fast. And the dog—the poor dog—had tried to get him off; he had dragged at his jacket and shirt-collar, till they wor all shred to bits, and had only given over when he found it of no use, an’ then did what he could to save the rest! An’ I killed him—I, that should have fed and cherished him to his dying day—I can never forgive myself for that.” “Do not distress yourself, Jarvis, in this way. No one will blame you for what you did in such a distracted state of mind,” said Flora, though she was grieved to the heart for the death of the noble dog. “You are right—you are just right; I was mad; and you must not think hard of a poor broken-hearted old man. My sorrow is ’most greater than I can bear. It will not be for long; I feel I’m goin’ the way of all the earth, an’ it matters little when we cast anchor in that port, whether our voyage wor short or long—rough or smooth, when the righteous Judge overhauls our vessel, an’ lays bare the secrets of all hearts. I trust He’ll have mercy on old Davy Jarvis, and forgive him for the death of his brave dog.” The fisherman took the eels from his basket, and grasping Flora’s hand in his hard horny palm, said, “May the Lord grant you prosperity! an’ bless you an’ your husband an’ the little ’un, an’ bring you safe to the far land to which you are journeying! May it prove to you a haven of rest! God bless you! good bye!” Flora looked after the drooping figure of the fisherman as he slowly descended the cliff, and she thought how intense must have been his agony in that dark hour of utter bereavement, which had tempted him to sacrifice his dog on the mere supposition that he had neglected to save the life of his son. “God comfort you! poor Jarvis,” she said, “and guide you in peace through the shadows of the dark valley that stretches its long night before you. The grief which has brought your grey locks in sorrow to the grave was enough to have broken a sterner heart.” CHAPTER XI. FLORA IN SEARCH OF A SERVANT HEARS A REAL GHOST STORY.