“Do not be frightened, dear,” she said. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. I fought. . "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. The island had evidently grown round this lagoon, approached it gradually from the volcanic upheaval—an island of coral and lava. Besides this, the door was crossed and recrossed by iron bars, clenched by broad-headed nails. “Dear me! I wonder what I ought to do.
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