e lady was Greeba herself.

It would be hard to tell how at first every other feeling was lost in
one of surprise at the strange meeting of father and daughter, how
surprise gave place to joy, and joy to pain, as bit by bit the
history of their several adventures was unfolded each to the other.
And while Greeba heard of the mischances that had overtaken old Adam,
he, on his part, heard of the death of her mother and her brother's
ill-usage, of the message that came from Michael Sunlocks and her
flight from home, of how she came to Iceland and was married, and of
how Sunlocks went in pursuit of himself, and, returning to the
capital, was betrayed into the hands of his enemies. All the long
story of plot and passion he heard in the wild tangle of her hot and
broken words, save only that part of it which concerned her quarrel
with her husband; but when he mentioned Red Jason, saying that he had
seen him, he heard that sad passage of her story also, told with fear
and many bitter tears.

Adam comforted Greeba with what words of cheer he could command, in
an hour when his own heart was dark and hopeless, and then amid the
turmoil of so many emotions, the night being worn to midnight, they
composed themselves to sleep.

Next morning, rising anxious and unrested, Adam saw the Icelandic
warders, who had been supplanted in their employment by the Danes,
start away from the settlement for their homes, and after them went a
group of the Danish prisoners as free men, who had been imprisoned by
the Republic as spies of the Government of Denmark. By this time Adam
had decided on his course.

"Greeba," he said, "this imprisonment of Michael Sunlocks is unjust,
and I see a way to put an end to it. No governor shall sentence him
without judge or jury. But I will go on to Reykjavik and appeal to
this Jorgen Jorgensen. If he will not hear me, I will appeal to his
master, the King of Denmark. If Denmark will not listen, I will
appeal to England, for Michael Sunlocks is a British subject, and may
claim the rights of an Englishman. And if England turns a deaf ear to
me, I will address my prayer to God, who has never yet failed to
right the wronged, or humble the arrogance of the mighty. Thank
Heaven, that has brought me here. I thought I was coming to end my
days in peace by his side who would shelter my poor foolish gray
head, that had forgotten to protect itself. But strange are the ways
of Providence. God has had his own purposes in