you belong to Yarmouth, young man?" asked the Captain.

"No, sir, I come from Caermarthen."

"Ha--what--Caermarthen! Tell me, who is your father?--what is your
name?"

"I have not a father," sighed the youth, "My name is--(he faltered as he
spoke it)--Henry St. Ledger."

The animated hope expressed in the countenance of the Captain, suffered
a momentary depression on hearing the name of the youth; but returned
with redoubled glow as he repeated--"You have not a father!--Oh
God!--How did you lose him?--When did he die?"

"About two years since," replied St. Ledger, dashing a tear from his
cheek.

The Captain's agitation increased. "Are you certain he was your father?
Did no obscurity,--no secrecy, attend your birth?" "Neither, sir; my
birth was honourable; welcomed with joy: though I, alas! was decreed by
heaven to experience the bitterest misery."

Disappointment took possession of the Captain's features, on this
information: he sighed deeply, and, leaning back in his chair, covered
his face with his hand.

He was recalled from his reverie, by his nephew expressing his surprise
at the emotions St. Ledger had occasioned him.

"Ah! Frederick," replied the Captain; "there is something in his
appearance----"

"Certainly not very prepossessing;" interrupted Lieutenant Harland: "to
judge by that, I should take him for a pauper--or something worse."

Till that moment the habiliments of St. Ledger had been disregarded by
Captain Howard and his nephew; it was St. Ledger himself, who engaged
their attentions: he was pale and emaciated, but with features more than
commonly handsome and expressive: at the insinuation of Harland, a
momentary spark of passion suffused his cheek; but, looking at his
dress, he suppressed a sigh, and with an air of injured dignity turned
to the window. The captain regarded George with a sternness which never
failed to check him, and, again addressing St. Ledger, asked if he
wished to engage in the sea-faring life?

St. Ledger bowed--

"If such be your wish or intention, young man," continued the Captain,
"you are welcome to remain here; and depend on my friendship--as you
deserve!"

"As he deserves!" repeated George, with contemptuous haughtiness. "Were
he to have his deserts, sir, I believe your friendship would not be put
to the test."

"Forbear! Lieutenant," returned the Captain, "know your distance, young
man, or take my word, my friendship to your father shall not shield you
f