_you_ did. I'm
darned if I ain't kinder ashamed to talk of this world's goods to a saint
upon airth like you. But I never knowed a parson yet as couldn't collar
the dollars."

After this preamble he announced that he had got a lease of the island
from Chili, dug a lot of silver plate out of the galleon, sold ten tons
of choice coral, and a ship-load of cassia and cocoanuts. He had then
disposed of his lease to a Californian company for a large sum. And his
partner's share of net profits came to 17,247 pounds 13s. 3 1/2 d. which
sum he had paid to Michael, for Robert, Penfold in drafts on Baring, at
thirty days after sight.

Robert shook his hand, and thanked him sincerely for his ability and
probity. He stayed that night at the Vicarage, and by that means fell in
with another acquaintance. General Rolleston and his daughter drove down
to see the parsonage. Helen wanted to surprise Robert; and, as often
happens, she surprised herself. She made him show her everything; and so
he took her on to his peninsula. Lo! the edges of it had been cut and
altered, so that it presented a miniature copy of Godsend Island.

As soon as she saw this, Helen turned round with a sudden cry of love,
"Oh, Robert!" and the lovers were in each other's arms. "What could any
other man ever be to me?"

"And what could any other woman ever be to me?"

They knew that before. But this miniature island made them speak out and
say it. The wedding-day was fixed before she left.

Her majesty pardoned this scholar, hero, and worthy, the crime he had
never committed.

Nancy Rouse took the penitent Wylie without the 2,000 pounds. But old
Penfold, who knew the whole story, lent the money at three per cent; so
the Wylies pay a ground-rent of 60 pounds a year for a property which, by
Mrs. Wylie's industry and judgment, is worth at least 400 pounds. She
pays this very cheerfully, and appeals to Joe whether that is not better
than the other way.

"Why, Joe," says she, "to a woman like me, that's a-foot all day, 'tis
worth sixty pounds a year to be a good sleeper; and I shouldn't be that
if I had wronged my neighbor."

Arthur Wardlaw is in a private lunatic asylum, and is taken great care
of. In his lucid intervals he suffers horrible distress of mind; but,
though sad to see, these agonies furnish the one hope of his ultimate
recovery. When not troubled by these returns of reason, he is contented
enough. His favorite employment is to get Mr. Undercliff