It was painfully evident to my Lady that the person who was speaking to her was in the unhappy condition he had just referred to, for he lurched from side to side until he had bethought him of steadying himself by the marble cross; but there was a sort of pathos in his voice, too, which was not the mere maudlin tenderness of the drunkard. If he had not been drunk, he might not have been tender, but there was evidently genuine feeling in the man, which seemed to deepen as he went on. “Now, though you do not speak, I know you're sorry for me. If I should lift your veil--there, I'm not agoing to do it--I am sure you would have a tear for a poor fellow who has been knocked about the world for three parts of his life, and has not made a single friend--not one, not one; and if he went back home, who would not see a face he knew--it is so long ago that he was there--and who needs a woman's voice to comfort him if ever a man did.” “What's all this to me, sir?” asked my Lady in low and broken tones. “I wish to be left alone here--by this grave.” “What--is--all--this--to you?” returned the man with vindictive deliberation, “Have you no heart, then, you proud woman, like your eldest son?” Then once more altering his manner, he continued: “Now, do not be angry with me, or you may be sorry for it, but rather pity me. This grave contains what is dear to you, it seems; but you have those alive who love you also! Now, I have not even a grave. The only creature on earth who ever loved _me_--and I loved her too, ah how dearly, though I could not keep even then from drink--she lies buried beneath the stormy waves. I cannot come, as you can, to this tomb, and say: 'Here she sleeps,' and weep over it, and be sorry for my sins, for I know not where, in all the waste of ocean, her bones may lie. So, for many years I never looked upon the sea without the sense that I was looking upon one great grave. Am I speaking truth or not?” He stopped and clutched her by the arm, and fiercely bade her tell him if she believed his words or no. “I do believe you, sir,” returned my Lady firmly. “Beneath your bronzed and bearded face, I see your woes at work, and I am sorry for you.”