The String of Pearls (1850), p. 726

deration and respect, and yet, with her natural timidity of disposition, she shrank from sharing it with him.
Some eager inquiries were made of Ingestrie now, regarding the man he had saved, and it was a great gratification to him to be enabled to state that he was doing well, although he had not himself seen him since he grappled with him in the water, and brought him to the beach.
A few fragments only of the wreck had been washed to the shore, but nothing that could in any way enable them to identify the vessel; so that that was a species of information that must come from the man who had been saved, whenever he should be able to go through the fatigue of an interview with his friend and his deliverer.
After an hour's stroll upon the beach, the party, at a slow pace, returned to the house they had hired during their stay at Brighton. The moment they got to the door, the colonels servant appeared with his horse, which he had ordered to be ready for him at twelve o'clock.
"Just walk him up and down," said the colonel, to the man; "I shall be ready in a few minutes. Hilloa! my friend, Hector, are you here?"
The dog was with the horse, and the man said, touching his hat—
"We were half a mind, sir, to let Hector loose last night during the storm, for he is a famous fellow in the water; but knowing how much you valued him, we were afraid to do so.
"I am glad you didn't," said the colonel. "You were quite right to keep him shut up. I would not have him come to any mischief for any money."
The colonel entered the house, and when he and all his friends had got into the drawing-room, they sent for a servant to inquire how the poor wrecked man was getting on; and after a little time, one of the domestics of the house came to say that he was up and sitting, dressed, in the front kitchen, and would be happy to see, and to thank those who had saved him from death in the raging sea.
"Shall we have him up here?" said the colonel.
"Yes, if you please," said Ingestrie; "and, I daresay, a glass of wine won't hurt him, while he tells us the name of his ship, poor fellow, and who and what he is."
"Certainly not," said Mr. Oakley. "I will get out the decanter."
"Allow me, my dear," said Mrs. Oakley. " You know you always break every glass that you interfere with."
"Oh, stuff!"
"But I say, Mr. Oakley, that you do."
"Easy does it," said Ben ' in his deepest bass voice. "Easy does it, I sau—Easy!"
"How cold I am," said Tobias.
"Cold, Tobias!" said Ingestrie. "My good fellow, we will have a fire if you are cold."
"Oh, no—no. Not on my account, Mrs. Ingestrie. I shall be better soon; but I feel as if something were going to happen. My heart beats so fearfully, and at the same time, I shake as if—as if—I know not what."
"Give him a glass of wine," said Ingestrie to Johanna.
Tobias took the glass of wine, and it evidently did him some good; but yet he looked ill and uneasy. Orders were given that the shipwrecked man should be shown up to the drawing-room, for they were all curious to know to which ship he had belonged, and how many had fallen victims to the frightful gale that had made the vessel such a complete wreck.
"He is coming, poor fellow,'' said the colonel. "I hear his footsteps on the stairs. He comes slowly. No doubt he is weak yet."
"Poor fellow!" sighed Johanna. "Have the wine ready to give him at once, mother. It will put some heart into him. What must be his feelings towards you, Mark?"
"Come now," said Ingestrie; "don't plague him, any of you, about his being