The dull day dragged away. It was noon, the last I would spend on earth, and I lay upon the bed and wished for the morn. I was weary, and the slow hours wore upon me until finally I arose and began to walk the floor. They had all deserted me, left me like a rat in a trap to die. Of the many who had fawned upon me, there was not one to approach me with a kind word. London was doubtless amusing herself with talk of me at this moment. The wine was going around the table, and the small talk, as light and frothy as their empty pates, was beginning to be heard; they would doubtless discuss me from the beginning to the end. "Poor Winchester! he used to be a right amusing fellow before he ran away to join the pirates. I wonder how he looks now?" The little world of fashion--how I had grown to despise it! What cared I for its painted smile or frown; whether the fashion was silver buckles or bronze; whether they talked of me or not? I cared as little for it as I did for the chatter of the sparrows that hopped about the court-yard below. Did the Lady Margaret Carroll think of one who had known and loved her? Did one sigh of pity come from her heart and darken those azure eyes; or had she serenely forgotten my very existence? And Bobby--this was the most unkind cut of all. Bobby, whom I loved as I did a brother, and whose heart I thought was as true as steel; he, too, had turned his back and left me to my fate. Such was the way of the world. Nine o'clock, and the dusk was beginning to fall, the long July day was ending. As I lay there I heard someone pause at my door, and then it swung open. I still lay there, my eyes fixed on the dingy ceiling. It was the jailer probably bringing my supper, for it was about time for him. "Well, my friend," I said, "this is the last supper that thou wilt bring for me. To-morrow I will be where they do not eat, or at least not such stuff as this that thou dost bring." "Sir Thomas!" a voice cried. "Is it thou?" And springing to a sitting posture, whom should I see but Steele, whom I had last left on board the ship with the Spanish maid. "Steele!" I cried, "Steele!" And leaping to my feet, I almost hugged him in my delight. "Then there is still one friend left to me." He was as glad to see me as I was to see him; the great tears of joy rolled down his face as he answered: "Yes, one friend who will stay with thee to the last. I have been out of London to my country place in Hampshire, and only returned to-day. As soon as I arrived I heard the news and came immediately, without stopping to change my clothes," and he pointed to the mud upon his boots. "Sit down," I said, "and tell me about thyself. But first, what has become of the Spanish maid?" He colored deeply beneath his ruddy skin. With a smile he answered: "She is now Mistress Steele."