“The next morning he complained of his long immersion in the sea, and certainly when he told his story to Mr. and Mrs. Lovyes as they sat over their breakfast in the parlour at Merchant’s Point, he spoke with such huskiness as I never heard the like of.  Mr. Lovyes took little heed to us, but went on eating his breakfast with only a sour comment here and there.  I noticed, however, that Mrs. Lovyes, who sat over against us, bent her head forward and once or twice shook it as though she would unseat some ridiculous conviction.  And after the story was told, she sat with no word of kindness for Mr. Crudge, and, what was yet more unlike her, no word of pity for the sailors who were lost.  Then she rose and stood, steadying herself with the tips of her fingers upon the table.  Finally she came swiftly across the room and peered into Mr. Crudge’s face.

“‘If you need help,’ she said, ’I will gladly furnish it.  No doubt you will be anxious to go from Tresco at the earliest.  No doubt, no doubt you will,’ she repeated anxiously.

“‘Madame,’ he said, ’I need no help, being by God’s leave a man’—­and he laid some stress upon the ‘man,’ but not boastfully—­rather as though all women did, or might need help, by the mere circumstance of their sex—­’and as for going hence, why yesterday I was bound for Africa.  I sailed unexpectedly into a fog off Scilly.  I was wrecked in a calm sea on the Golden Ball—­I was thrown up on Tresco—­no one on that ship escaped but myself.  No sooner was I safe than the fog lifted—–­’

“‘You will stay?’ Mrs. Lovyes interrupted.  ‘No?’

“‘Yes,’ said he, ‘Jarvis Grudge will stay.’

“And she turned thoughtfully away.  But I caught a glimpse of her face as we went out, and it wore the saddest smile a man could see.

“Mr. Grudge and I walked for a while in silence.

“‘And what sort of a name has Mr. John Lovyes in these parts?’ he asked.

“‘An honest sort,’ said I emphatically—­’the name of a man who loves his wife.’

“‘Or her money,’ he sneered.  ’Bah! a surly ill-conditioned dog, I’ll warrant, the curmudgeon!”

“‘You are marvellously recovered of your cold,’ said I.

“He stopped, and looked across the Sound.  Then he said in a soft, musing voice:  ’I once knew just such another clever boy.  He was so clever that men beat him with sticks and put on great sea-boots to kick him with, so that he lived a miserable life, and was subsequently hanged in great agony at Tyburn.’

“Mr. Grudge, as he styled himself, stayed with us for a week, during which time he sailed much with me about these islands; and I made a discovery.  Though he knew these islands so well, he had never visited them before, and his knowledge was all hearsay.  I did not mention my discovery to him, lest I should meet with another rebuff.  But I was none the less sure of its truth, for he mistook Hanjague for Nornor, and Priglis Bay for Beady Pool, and made a