A week afterwards he complained of sickness and pains in the back and head--three weeks later he died as we have seen.
All these events and many others antecedent passed through Leonard's mind as he wore out the long hours seated by the side of his dead brother.

Never before had he felt so lonely, so utterly desolate, so bankrupt of all love and hope.

It was a fact that at this moment he had no friend in the wide world, unless he could call the knob-nosed native Otter a friend.

He had been many years away from England, his few distant relations there troubled themselves no more about him or his brother, outcasts, wanderers in strange lands, and his school and college companions in all probability had forgotten his existence.
There was one indeed, Jane Beach.

But since that night of parting, seven years ago, he had heard nothing of her.