comes back."

"Thank God!" is the old man's acknowledgment. "You have saved our
fortunes."

The girl sighs, and then, with a little touch of that demure irony which
we had seen in her years before, says: "I trust we have not lost our
honour."

"Why, you love him, do you not? There is no one you care for more than
George Gering?"

"I suppose not," is her reply, but the tone is enigmatical.

While this scene is on, another appears in Cheapside, London. A man
of bold and vigorous bearing comes from the office of a well-known
solicitor. That very morning he had had an interview with the King, and
had been reminded with more exactness than kindness that he had cost King
Charles a ship, scores of men, and thousands of pounds, in a fruitless
search for buried treasure in Hispaniola. When he had urged his case
upon the basis of fresh information, he was drily told that the security
was too scant, even for a king. He had then pleaded his case to the Duke
of Albemarle and other distinguished gentlemen. They were seemingly
convinced, but withheld their answer till the following morning.

But William Phips, stubborn adventurer, destined to receive all sorts of
honours in his time, has no intention of quitting London till he has his
way; and this is his thought as he steps into Cheapside, having already
made preparations upon the chance of success. He has gone so far as to
purchase a ship, called the Bridgwater Merchant from an alderman in