ing."

"You tried to save my life," said Stephen Orry.

"I couldn't help doing that," said Jason, "and I want no pay."

"But it's two hundred pounds, my lad."

"No matter."

"Then how much have you got?"

"Nothing."

"Has the wreck taken all?"

"Yes--no--that is, I never had anything."

"Take the money; for God's sake take it, and do what you like with
it, or I'll die in torture," cried Stephen Orry, and with a groan he
threw himself backward on the bed.

"I'll keep it for your son," said Jason. "His name is Michael
Sunlocks, isn't it? And he has sailed for Iceland, hasn't he? That's
my country, and I may meet him some day."

Then in a broken voice Stephen Orry said, "If you have a father he
must be proud of you, my lad. Who is he?"

And Jason answered moodily, "I have no father--none I ever knew."

"Did he die in your childhood?"

"No."

"Before you were born?"

"No."

"Is he alive?"

"Ay, for aught I know."

Stephen Orry struggled to his elbow again. "Then he had wronged your
mother?" he said with his breath coming quick.

"Ay, maybe so."

"The villain! Yet who am I to rail at him? Is your mother still
alive?"

"No."

"Where is your father?"

"Don't speak of him," said Jason in an under-breath.

"But what's your name, my lad?"

"Jason."

With a long sigh of relief Stephen Orry dropped back and muttered to
himself, "To think that such a father should never have known he had
such a son."

The power of life ebbed fast in him, but after a pause he said,

"My lad."

"Well?" said Jason.

"I've done you a great wrong."

"When did you do me a wrong?"

"To-night."

"How?"

"No matter. There's no undoing it now; God forgive me. But let me be
your father, though I'm a dying man, for that will give you the right
to keep my poor savings for yourself."

"But they belong to your son," said Jason.

"He'll never touch them," said Stephen Orry.

"Why not?" said Jason.

"Don't ask me. Leave me alone. For mercy's sake don't torture a dying
man," cried Stephen Orry.

"That's not what I meant to do," said Jason, giving way; "and, if you
wish it, I will keep the money."

"Thank God," said Stephen Orry.

Some moments thereafter he lay quiet, breathing fast and loud, while
Greeba hovered about him. Then in a feebler voice he said, "Do you
think, my lad, you'll ever meet my son?"

"Maybe so," said Jason. "I'll go back when I've done what I came to
do."

"What is that?" Greeba w