After dinner Harold went back to his cabin; locking himself in, he lay down on the sofa.

The gloom of his great sorrow was heavy on him; the reaction from the excitement of the morning had come.
He was recalled to himself by a gentle tapping.

Unlocking and opening the door he saw Mr.Stonehouse, who said with trouble in his voice: 'I came to you on account of my little child.' There he stopped with a break in his voice.

Harold, with intent to set his mind at ease and to stave off further expressions of gratitude, replied: 'Oh, pray don't say anything.

I am only too glad that I was privileged to be of service.