Time progressed, and though Mrs. Heartwell still laboured under unaccountable agitation and alarm, yet there was a counteracting influence that diffused itself through her frame and buoyed her up with hope. Honest Ben more than once or twice entered the room, and with diffidence inquired whether his mistress had any commands; he asked no intrusive questions--he made no observations--the matter was something beyond his comprehension, and it never for one moment entered into his thoughts to speculate upon causes and effects; yet desirous of affording all the comfort and consolation which suggested itself to his mind, he took especial pains in making some excellent coffee, which he carried up to the distressed lady. "You are kind and considerate, my good friend," said she whilst accepting the proffered refreshment. "I wish Mr. Heartwell was here to partake of it with me. Surely something unusual must have happened to detain him." "No doubt on it, my lady," returned the seaman; "an ould messmate or shipmate mayhap, or an extra glass of grog or two." The lady shook her head as she mournfully replied, "No, no, those would not be inducements strong enough to keep your master away from his home." "Bless you, my lady," responded the seaman earnestly, as he busied himself about the parlour; "as to the strength of the deucements, all I can say is, that they mixes 'em strong enough when they pleases--though half-and-half ought to satisfy any reasonable man. But there, what's the odds so as you're happy?" "You must prepare yourself, Ben, to go to Lincoln's Inn, and see if your master has been detained by business," said the lady, disregarding, or perhaps not observing the poor fellow's mistake. "You know the office of Mr. Brady." "Yes, my lady," returned the seaman; "and I'll make sail as soon as ever you pleases to give orders." "Wait then a little longer," added Mrs. Heartwell, as she looked at the watch: "go down now, and I will ring for you presently." Accustomed to implicit obedience when afloat, the seaman still adhered to it now that he was ashore; and therefore again descending to the kitchen, he awaited the expected summons. Drearily and heavily the minutes passed away, and yet as the fingers of the dial moved progressively over the divisions of the hour into quarters--marking the march of time--they seemed to have flown too quickly, for they afforded additional evidence that some calamity must have befallen the individual whose continued absence had caused increasing pain. Yet there the mourning watcher sat, suffering the extreme trial of human patience--waiting for those who came not.