The interior of St. James’s Church, in Havenpool Town, was slowly darkening under the close clouds of a winter afternoon.  It was Sunday: service had just ended, the face of the parson in the pulpit was buried in his hands, and the congregation, with a cheerful sigh of release, were rising from their knees to depart.  
For the moment the stillness was so complete that the surging of the sea could be heard outside the harbour-bar.  Then it was broken by the footsteps of the clerk going towards the west door to open it in the usual manner for the exit of the assembly.  Before, however, he had reached the , the was lifted from without, and the dark figure of a man in a sailor’s appeared against the light.
 
The clerk stepped aside, the sailor closed the door gently behind him, and advanced up the till he stood at the chancel-step.  The parson looked up from the private little prayer which, after so many for the parish, he quite fairly took for himself; rose to his feet, and stared at the intruder.
 
‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said the sailor, addressing the minister in a voice distinctly audible to all the congregation.  ‘I have come here to offer thanks for my narrow escape from .  I am given to understand that it is a proper thing to do, if you have no objection?’
 
The parson, after a moment’s pause, said hesitatingly, ‘I have no objection; certainly.  It is usual to mention any such wish before service, so that the proper words may be used in the General Thanksgiving.  But, if you wish, we can read from the form for use after a storm at sea.’
 
‘Ay, sure; I ain’t particular,’ said the sailor.
 
The clerk thereupon directed the sailor to the page in the prayer-book where the collect of thanksgiving would be found, and the rector began reading it, the sailor kneeling where he stood, and repeating it after him word by word in a distinct voice.  The people, who had remained agape and motionless at the , mechanically knelt down likewise; but they continued to regard the form of the sailor who, in the precise middle of the chancel-step, remained on his knees, facing the east, his hat beside him, his hands joined, and he quite unconscious of his appearance in their regard.
 
When his thanksgiving had come to an end he rose; the people rose also, and all went out of church together.  As soon as the sailor emerged, so that the remaining daylight fell upon his face, old inhabitants began to recognize him as no other than Shadrach Jolliffe, a young man who had not been seen at Havenpool for several years.  A son of the town, his parents had died when he was quite young, on which account he had early gone to sea, in the Newfoundland trade.
 
He talked with this and that townsman as he walked, informing them that, since leaving his native place years before, he had become captain and owner of a small coasting-ketch, which had providentially been saved from the as well as himself.  Presently he drew near to two girls who were going out of the churchyard in front of him; they had been sitting in the nave at his entry, and had watched his doings with deep interest, afterwards discussing him as they moved out of church together.  One was a slight and gentle creature, the other a tall, large-framed, deliberative girl.  Captain Jolliffe regarded the loose curls of their hair, their backs and shoulders, down to their heels, for some time.
 
‘Who may them two maids be?’ he whispered to his neighbour.
 
‘The little one is Emily Hanning; the tall one Joanna Phippard.’
 
‘Ah!  I ’em now, to be sure.’
 
He advanced to their elbow, and stole a gaze at them.
 
‘Emily, you don’t know me?’ said the sailor, turning his beaming brown eyes on her.
 
‘I think I do, Mr. Jolliffe,’ said Emily shyly.
 
The other girl looked straight at him with her dark eyes.
 
‘The face of Miss Joanna I don’t call to mind so well,’ he continued.  ‘But I know her beginnings and kindred.’
 
They walked and talked together, Jolliffe particulars of his late narrow escape, till they reached the corner of Lane, in which Emily Hanning dwelt, when, with a nod and smile, she left them.  Soon the sailor parted also from Joanna, and, having no especial errand or appointment, turned back towards Emily’s house.  She lived with her father, who called himself an accountant, the daughter, however, keeping a little stationery-shop as a supplemental provision for the gaps of his somewhat uncertain business.  On entering Jolliffe found father and daughter about to begin tea.
 
‘O, I didn’t know it was tea-time,’ he said.  ‘Ay, I’ll have a cup with much pleasure.’
 
He remained to tea and long afterwards, telling more tales of his seafaring life.  Several neighbours called to listen, and were asked to come in.  Somehow Emily Hanning lost her heart to the sailor that Sunday night, and in the course of a week or two there was a tender understanding between them.
 
One moonlight evening in the next month Shadrach was out of the town by the long straight road , to an elevated suburb where the more fashionable houses stood—if anything near this ancient port could be called fashionable—when he saw a figure before him whom, from her manner of glancing back, he took to be Emily.  But, on coming up, he found she was Joanna Phippard.  He gave a greeting, and walked beside her.
 
‘Go along,’ she said, ‘or Emily will be jealous!’
 
He seemed not to like the suggestion, and remained.  What was said and what was done on that walk never could be clearly by Shadrach; but in some way or other Joanna to wean him away from her gentler and younger rival.  From that week onwards, Jolliffe was seen more and more in the wake of Joanna Phippard and less in the company of Emily; and it was soon about the that old Jolliffe’s son, who had come home from sea, was going to be married to the former young woman, to the great disappointment of the latter.
 
Just after this report had gone about, Joanna dressed herself for a walk one morning, and started for Emily’s house in the little cross-street.  Intelligence of the deep sorrow of her friend on account of the loss of Shadrach had reached her ears also, and her conscience reproached her for winning him away.
 
Joanna was not altogether satisfied with the sailor.  She liked his attentions, and she the dignity of matrimony; but she had never been deeply in love with Jolliffe.  For one thing, she was ambitious, and socially his position was hardly so good as her own, and there was always the chance of an attractive woman mating above her.  It had long been in her mind that she would not strongly object to give him back again to Emily if her friend felt so very badly about him.  To this end she had written a letter of renunciation to Shadrach, which lette............