next day I left the isle!

That lone isle, where I had spent so great a part of my life--not
much less than thrice ten long years.

When I came back to the dear land of my birth, all was strange
and new to me. I went to my old home at York, but none of my
friends were there, and to my great grief I saw, on the stone at
their grave, the sad tale of their death.

As they had thought, of course, that I was dead, they had not
left me their wealth and lands, so that I stood much in want of
means, for it was but a small sum that I had brought with me from
the isle. But in this time of need, I had the luck to find my
good friend who once took me up at sea. He was now grown too old
for work, and had put his son in the ship in his place. He did
not know me at first, but I was soon brought to his mind when I
told him who I was. I found from him that the land which I had
bought on my way to the isle was now worth much.

As it was a long way off, I felt no wish to go and live there so
I made up my mind to sell it, and in the course of a few months,
I got for it a sum so large as to make me a rich man all at once.

Weeks, months, and years went by; I had a farm, a wife, and two
sons, and was by no means young; but still I could not get rid of
a strong wish which dwelt in my thoughts by day and my dreams by
night, and that was to set foot once more in my old isle.

I had now no need to work for food, or for means of life; all I