bed, and whether from the widow's blessing, or the air of the place, he
slept like a plowboy.

Leaving Richard, Lord Ipsden, to work out the Aberford problem--to
relieve poor people, one or two of whom, like the Rutherford, were
grateful, the rest acted it to the life--to receive now and then a visit
from Christina Johnstone, who borrowed every mortal book in his house,
who sold him fish, invariably cheated him by the indelible force of
habit, and then remorsefully undid the bargain, with a peevish entreaty
that "he would not be so green, for there was no doing business with
him"--to be fastened upon by Flucker, who, with admirable smoothness and
cunning, wormed himself into a cabin-boy on board the yacht, and
man-at-arms ashore.

To cruise in search of adventures, and meet nothing but disappointments;
to acquire a browner tint, a lighter step, and a jacket, our story moves
for a while toward humbler personages.



CHAPTER IV.


JESS RUTHERFORD, widow of Alexander Johnstone--for Newhaven wives, like
great artists, change their conditions without changing their names--was
known in the town only as a dour wife, a sour old carline. Whose fault?

Do wooden faces and iron tongues tempt sorrow to put out its snails'
horns?