“I picked him up on the Baymouth wharf about half an hour ago, Hannah, my dear, and—­”

“The Baymouth wharf! that is out of all reason!  Why it is not more than two hours since he started to go to Brudenell Hall,” exclaimed Hannah, as she violently rubbed away at the boy’s hands.

Reuben was standing patiently at the foot of the bed, with his hat in his hands, and he answered slowly: 

“Well, Hannah, I don’t know how that might be; but I know I picked him up where I said.”

“But what caused all this, Reuben Gray?  What caused it? that’s what I want to know! can’t you speak?” harshly demanded the woman, as she flew to her cupboard, seized a vinegar cruet, and began to bathe Ishmael’s head and face with its stimulating contents.

“Well, Hannah, I couldn’t tell exactly; but ’pears to me someone went off in the boat as he was a-pining after.”

“Who went off in the boat?” asked Hannah impatiently.

“Law, Hannah, my dear, how can I tell?  Why, there wasn’t less than thirty or forty passengers, more or less, went off in that boat!”

“What do I care how many restless fools went off in the boat?  Tell me about the boy!” snapped Hannah, as she once more ran to the cupboard, poured out a little precious brandy (kept for medicinal purposes) and came and tried to force a teaspoonful between Ishmael’s lips.

“Hannah, woman, don’t be so unpatient.  Indeed, it wasn’t my fault.  I will tell you all I know about it.”

“Tell me, then.”

“I am going to.  Well, you see, I had just taken some of the judge’s luggage down to the boat and got it well on, and the boat had just started, and I was just a-getting into my cart again when I see a youth come a-tearin’ down the street like mad, and he whips round the corner like a rush of wind, and streaks it down to the wharf and looks after the boat as if it was a-carrying off every friend he had upon the yeth; and then he stretches out both his arms and cries out aloud, and falls on his face like a tree cut down.  And a crowd gathered, and someone said how the lad was your nephew, so I picked him up and laid him in my cart to bring him home.  And I made Bob drive slow; and I bathed the boy’s face and hands with some good whisky, and tried to make him swallow some; but it was no use.”

While Reuben spoke, Ishmael gave signs of returning consciousness, and then suddenly opened his eyes and looked around him.

“Drink this, my boy; drink this, my darling Ishmael,” said Hannah, raising his head with one hand while she held the brandy to his lips with the other.

Ishmael obediently drank a little and then sank back upon his pillow.  He gazed fixedly at Hannah for a few moments, and then suddenly threw his arms around her neck, as she stooped over him, and cried out in a voice piercing shrill with anguish: 

“Oh, Aunt Hannah! she is gone; she is gone forever!”