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CHAPTER I. – SOUTHBOURNE
CHAPTER II. – TO THE DOWNS
CHAPTER III. – DOWN CHANNEL
CHAPTER IV. – IN THE ATLANTIC
CHAPTER V. – A GALE OF WIND
CHAPTER VI. – TAKEN ABACK!
CHAPTER VII. – IN THE BOATS
CHAPTER VIII. – THE SECOND DAY
CHAPTER IX. – THE THIRD DAY
CHAPTER X. – THE FOURTH DAY
CHAPTER XI. – THE FIFTH DAY
CHAPTER XII. – THE SIXTH AND SEVENTH DAYS
CHAPTER XIII. – THE TENTH DAY
CHAPTER XIV. – HOLDSWORTH’S RECOVERY
CHAPTER XV. – “NO LIGHT, BUT RATHER DARKNESS, VISIBLE.”
CHAPTER XVI. – SAILORS’ SYMPATHY
CHAPTER XVII. – A PRESENTATION
CHAPTER XVIII. – SYDNEY
CHAPTER XIX. – HOMEWARD BOUND
CHAPTER XX. – AN INSPIRATION
CHAPTER XXI. – FOR HANWITCH
CHAPTER XXII. – SOUTHBOURNE
CHAPTER XXIII. – REFLECTIONS
CHAPTER XXIV. – HANWITCH
CHAPTER XXV. – IN THE ELLESMERE ROAD
CHAPTER XXVI. – OVER THE WAY
CHAPTER XXVII. – FATHER AND CHILD
CHAPTER XXVIII. – DOLLY’S THOUGHTS
CHAPTER XXIX. – A VISIT
CHAPTER XXX. – THE KNOT IS CUT
CHAPTER XXXI. – HUSBAND AND WIFE
POSTSCRIPT
In a period of English history which graybeards call the good old times—the fine old times; that is to say, when Parliament was horribly corrupt, and the Poor Laws as barbarous as the Inquisition; when it took fifteen hours to go from London to Dover; and when at least one-half of the conveniences which we now very reasonably call the necessities of life had no existence—Southbourne was a small straggling village, and, by reason of the quaint and primitive aspect of its houses, something, even in those good old times, like an anachronism on the face of the land. What is now a well-looking street, fairly paved, and decorated with a number of showy shop-windows, was then an uneven road, with great spaces of grassy land, dusty and closely nibbled by goats, between the houses; whilst the houses themselves were mostly gable-roofed, with latticed windows, which served excellently to exclude the light, and which gave a blank and lack-lustre look to the edifices, as though they were weary to death of the view over the way.
Between these two houses ran what the villagers called the High Street; and the eye followed the road, patched here and there with dark-coloured grass, for nearly a third of a mile, noting the gable-roofed houses that looked at each other from either side; the blacksmith’s shed, where the bellows were always roaring; the flat-roofed baker’s shop, standing importunately forwards, away from the little house in which the baker lived; the butcher’s hard by; the apothecary’s next to that; and the linendraper’s shop, which had absorbed the frontage of no less than two solemn-looking houses—noting these and other details contributing to the carnal or frivolous interests of the place, until it settled upon a small building, which, standing in the centre of the road, narrowed it into a large and a small lane, and thus marked the extent and importance of the High Street.
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“Poor girl!” exclaimed the widow, with deep sympathy in her voice. She added, cheerfully, “But this separation will only make you dearer to each other. You are sure to meet again. Time flies quickly, and all these weary days will seem no more than a dream to you when you are together.”
She sighed and glanced down at the deep crape on her dress. The moonlight enabled Holdsworth to notice the glance, and the pathos of it silenced him. In the presence of such an experience as her parting was—he knew whom she had lost by her reference to her fatherless boy—his own sorrow appeared light.
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