ten, however, during that interval had the
young stranger turned his bright blue eyes with a look of intelligence
and feeling on him who attended him with the care of a father, and the
colour, the expression of those eyes seemed to thrill to Mordaunt's
heart, and speak even yet more forcibly of days gone by.

"Let me write but two lines, to tell Captain Seaforth I am safe and
well," said Edward impetuously, as he sprung with renewed spirits from
the couch on which he had been so long an unwilling prisoner.

"And how send it, my young friend? There is not a vessel within sight on
the wide sea."

Edward uttered an exclamation of impatience, then instantly checking
himself, said, with a smile--

"Forgive me, sir; I should think only of my merciful preservation, and
of endeavouring to express in some manner my obligations to you, to
whose generous exertions, blessed as they were by heaven, I owe my life.
Oh, would that my aunt and sister were near me, their gratitude for the
preservation of one whom they perhaps too fondly and too partially love,
would indeed be gratifying to feelings such as yours. I can feel what I
owe you, Lieutenant Mordaunt, but I cannot express myself sufficiently
in words."

"In the name of heaven, young man, in pity tell me who you are!" gasped
Mordaunt, almost inarticulately, as he grasped Edward's hand and gazed
intently on his face; for every word he spoke, heightened by the
kindling animation of his features, appeared to render that
extraordinary likeness yet more perfect.

"Edward Fortescue is my name."

"But your mother's, boy,--your mother's? I ask not from idle curiosity."

"She was the youngest daughter of Lord Delmont, Eleanor Manvers."

Mordaunt gazed yet more intently on the youth, then hoarsely murmuring,
"I knew it,--it was no fancy," sunk back almost overpowered with
momentary agitation. Recovering himself almost instantly, and before
Edward could give vent to his surprise and sympathy in words, he asked,
"Is Lord Delmont yet alive? I knew him once; he was a kind old man." His
lip quivered, so as almost to prevent the articulation of his words.

"Oh, no; the departure of my mother for India was a trial he never
recovered, and the intelligence that his only son, a noble and gallant
officer, perished with the crew of the Leander, finally broke his heart;
he never held up his head again, and died a very few months afterwards."

Mordaunt buried his face in his hands, and for s