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theory- to prepare me for disappointment, I do believe, if disappointment were to come- that we had discovered an unknown rookery. She was in very good spirits, however, and made quite merry in accepting our plight as a grave one. ¡¡¡¡'If you are right,' I said, 'then we must prepare to winter here. Our food will not last, but there are the seals. They go away in the fall, so I must soon begin to lay in a supply of meat. Then there will be huts to build, and driftwood to gather. Also, we shall try out seal fat for lighting purposes. Altogether, we'll have our hands full if we find the island uninhabited. Which we shall not, I know.' ¡¡¡¡But she was right. We sailed with a beam wind along the shore, searching the coves with our glasses, and landing occasionally,
without finding a sign of human life. Yet we learned that we were not the first that had landed on Endeavor Island. High up on the beach of the second cove from ours, we discovered the splintered wreck of a boat- a sealer's boat, for the rowlocks were bound in sennit, a gun-rack was on the starboard side of the bow, and in white letters was faintly visible Gazelle No. 2.

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'I have always been proud of the fact that I discovered him,' I said, turning the conversation as Wolf Larsen stepped on the poop and joined us. 'The editors were afraid of him, and the publishers would have none of him. But I knew, and his genius and my judgment were vindicated when he made that magnificent hit with his "Plowman." ¡¡¡¡'And it was a newspaper poem,' she said glibly. ¡¡¡¡'It did happen to see the light in a newspaper,' I replied, 'but not because the magazine editors had been denied a glimpse at it. ¡¡¡¡'We were talking of Harris,' I said to Wolf Larsen. ¡¡¡¡'Oh, yes,' he acknowledged. 'I remember "The Ring." Filled with pretty sentiments and an almighty faith in human illusions. By the way, Mr. Van Weyden, you'd better look in on Cooky. He's complaining and restless.' ¡¡¡¡Thus was I bluntly dismissed from the poop, only to find Mugridge sleeping soundly from the morphine I had given him. I made no haste to return on deck, and

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We must have been well in the path of the transpacific steamships when the typhoon moderated, and here, to the surprise of the hunters, we found ourselves in the midst of seals- a second herd, or sort of rear-guard, they declared, and a most unusual thing. But it was 'Boats over!' the boom, boom of guns, and pitiful slaughter through the long day. ¡¡¡¡It was at this time that I was approached by Leach. I had just finished tallying the skins of the last boat aboard when he came to my side, in the darkness, and said in a low tone: ¡¡¡¡'Can you tell me, Mr. Van Weyden, how far we are off the coast, and what the bearings of Yokohama are?' ¡¡¡¡My heart leaped with gladness, for I knew what he had in mind, and I gave him the bearings- west-northwest and five hundred miles away. ¡¡¡¡'Thank you, sir,' was all he said as he slipped back into the darkness. ¡¡¡¡Next morning No. 3 boat and Johnson and Leach were missing. The waterbreakers and grub-boxes from all the other boats were likewise missing, as were the

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another, so far as he is concerned, were it not that he needs them alive for the hunting. If they will only hold their hands until the season is over, he promises them a royal carnival, when all grudges can be settled and the survivors may toss the non-survivors overboard and arrange a story as to how the missing men were lost at sea. I think even the hunters are appalled at his cold-bloodedness. Wicked men though they be, they are certainly very much afraid of him. ¡¡¡¡Thomas Mugridge is cur-like in his subjection to me, while I go about in secret dread of him. His is the courage of fear, a strange thing I know well of myself, and at any moment it may master the fear and impel him to the taking of my life. My knee is much better, though it often aches for long periods, and the stiffness is gradually leaving the arm which Wolf Larsen squeezed. Otherwise I am in splendid condition, feel that I am in splendid condition. My muscles are growing harder and increasing in size. My hands, however, are a spectacle for grief. Also, I am suffering from boils, due to the diet most likely, for I was never so afflicted before

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The man addressed as Yonson, a man of the heavy Scandinavian type, ceased chafing me and arose awkwardly to his feet. The man who had spoken to him was clearly a Cockney, with the clean lines and weakly pretty, almost effeminate, face of the man who has absorbed the sound of Bow Bells with his mother's milk. A draggled muslin cap on his head, and a dirty gunny-sack about his slim hips, proclaimed him cook of the decidedly dirty ship's galley in which I found myself. ¡¡¡¡'An' 'ow yer feelin' now, sir?' he asked, with the subservient smirk which comes only of generations of tip-seeking ancestors. ¡¡¡¡For reply, I twisted weakly into a sitting posture, and was helped by Yonson to my feet. The rattle and bang of the frying-pan was grating horribly on my nerves. I could not collect my thoughts. Clutching the woodwork of the galley for support,- and I confess the grease with which it was scummed put my teeth on edge,- I reached across a hot cooking-range to the offending utensil, unhooked it, and wedged it securely into the coal-box.

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Cernel. As he walked his pace showed perturbation, and by-and-by, as if instigated by a former thought, he drew from his pocket a small book, between the leaves of which was folded a letter, worn and soiled, as from much re-reading. D'Urberville opened the letter. It was dated several months before this time, and was signed by Parson Clare. ¡¡¡¡The letter began by expressing the writer's unfeigned joy at d'Urberville's conversion, and thanked him for his kindness in communicating with the parson on the subject. It expressed Mr Clare's warm assurance of forgiveness for d'Urberville's former conduct, and his interest in the young man's plans for the future. He, Mr Clare, would much have liked to see d'Urberville in the Church to whose ministry he had devoted so many years of his own life, and would have helped him to enter a theological college to that end; but since his correspondent had possibly not cared to do this on account of the delay it would have entailed, he was not the man to insist upon its paramount importance. Every man must work as he could best work, and in the method towards which he felt impelled by the Spirit.

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¡¡¡¡Over the barton-gate the dairyman saw them, and came forward, throwing into his face the kind of jocularity deemed appropriate in Talbothays and its vicinity on the re-appearance of the newly-married. Then Mrs Crick emerged from the house, and several others of their old acquaintance, though Marian and Retty did not seem to be there. ¡¡¡¡Tess valiantly bore their sly attacks and friendly humours, which affected her far otherwise than they supposed. In the tacit agreement of husband and wife to keep their estrangement a secret they behaved as would have been ordinary. And then, although she would rather there had been no word spoken on the subject, Tess had to hear in detail the story of Marian and Retty. ¡¡¡¡The latter had gone home to her father's, and Marian had left to look for employment elsewhere. They feared she would come to no good.

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Did you meet anyone or did you hear anyonewalking near you?"
　　"It's funny you sayingthat, because I did think I heard someone walking behind me. Of course, there must be lotsof people walking about in London. Only in a fog like this, it gives you a nervousfeeling. I waited and listened but I didn't hear any footstepsand I thought I'd imagined them. I was quite close to thehotel by then."
　　"And then?"
　　"And then quite suddenly there was a shot. As Itold you, it seemed to go right past my ear. The commissionaire man who stands outside thehotel came running down towards me and he pushed me behind him and then – then – the other shot came…. He – he fell down and I screamed." She was shaking now. Her mother spoke to her.