Richard Devine tossed his black hair from his brow in sudden passion
of love and grief.

"Mother, dear mother, do not weep," he said. "I am not worthy of your tears.
Forgive! It is I--impetuous and ungrateful during all your years
of sorrow--who most need forgiveness. Let me share your burden
that I may lighten it. He is just. It is fitting that I go.
I can earn a name--a name that I need not blush to bear nor you to hear.
I am strong. I can work. The world is wide. Farewell! my own mother!"

"Not yet, not yet! Ah! see he has taken the Belsize Road. Oh, Richard,
pray Heaven they may not meet."

"Tush! They will not meet! You are pale, you faint!"

"A terror of I know not what coming evil overpowers me. I tremble
for the future. Oh, Richard, Richard! Forgive me! Pray for me."

"Hush, dearest! Come, let me lead you in. I will write. I will
send you news of me once at least, ere I depart. So--you are calmer, mother!"

* * * * * *

Sir Richard Devine, knight, shipbuilder, naval contractor, and millionaire,
was the son of a Harwich boat carpenter. Early left an orphan
with a sister to support, he soon reduced his sole aim in life
to the accumulation of money. In the Harwich boat-shed, nearly
fifty years before, he had contracted--in defiance of prophesied
failure--to build the Hastings sloop of war for His Majesty King George