"But I tell you I can't," cried George; "every inch of this accursed
ground is hateful to me--I want to run out of it as I would out of a
graveyard. I'll go back to town to-night, get that business about the
money settled early to-morrow morning, and start for Liverpool without a
moment's delay. I shall be better when I've put half the world between
me and her grave."

"Before he left the house he stole out to the landlady, and asked same
more questions about his dead wife.

"Were they poor?" he asked, "were they pinched for money while she was
ill?"

"Oh, no!" the woman answered; "though the captain dresses shabby, he has
always plenty of sovereigns in his purse. The poor lady wanted for
nothing."

George was relieved at this, though it puzzled him to know where the
drunken half-pay lieutenant could have contrived to find money for all
the expenses of his daughter's illness.

But he was too thoroughly broken down by the calamity which had befallen
him to be able to think much of anything, so he asked no further
questions, but walked with his father-in-law and Robert Audley down to
the boat by which they were to cross to Portsmouth.

The old man bade Robert a very ceremonious adieu.

"You did not introduce me to your friend, by-the-bye, my dear boy," he
said. George stared at him, muttered something indistinct, and ran down