ore eloquent than all the rest of
his words put together. This fellow is no visionary. His scheme may be
daring, and unprincipled, but--he knows very well what he's about.

"Well!" said old Pearse, "you shall have five 'undred of my money, if
it's only to learn what yu're made of. Wheel me in!" Zachary wheeled him
into the house, but soon came back.

"The old man's cheque for five hundred pounds!" he said, holding it
up. "Mr. Treffry, give me another, and you shall have a third of the
profits."

I expected Dan to give a point-blank refusal. But he only asked:

"Would that clear you for starting?"

"With that," said Zachary, "I can get to sea in a fortnight."

"Good!" Dan said slowly. "Give me a written promise! To sea in fourteen
days and my fair share on the five hundred pounds--no more--no less."

Again I thought Pearse would have jumped at this, but he leaned his chin
on his hand, and looked at Dan, and Dan looked at him. While they were
staring at each other like this, Pasiance came up with a kitten.

"See!" she said, "isn't it a darling?" The kitten crawled and clawed
its way up behind her neck. I saw both men's eyes as they looked at
Pasiance, and suddenly understood what they were at. The kitten rubbed
itself against Pasiance's cheek, overbalanced, and fell, clawing, down
her dress. She caught it up and walked away. Some one, I don't know
which of us, sighed, and Pearse cried "Done!"

The bargain had been driven.

"Good-bye, Mr. Pearse," said Dan; "I guess that's all I'm wanted for.
I'll find my pony waiting in the village. George, you'll see Pasiance
home?"

We heard the hoofs of his pony galloping down the road; Pearse suddenly
excused himself, and disappeared.

This venture of his may sound romantic and absurd, but it's
matter-of-fact enough. He's after L. s. d.! Shades of Drake, Raleigh,
Hawkins, Oxenham! The worm of suspicion gnaws at the rose of romance.
What if those fellows, too, were only after L. s. d....?

I strolled into the pine-wood. The earth there was covered like a bee's
body with black and gold stripes; there was the blue sea below, and
white, sleepy clouds, and bumble-bees booming above the heather; it
was all softness, a summer's day in Devon. Suddenly I came on Pearse
standing at the edge of the cliff with Pasiance sitting in a little
hollow below, looking up at him. I heard him say:

"Pasiance--Pasiance!" The sound of his voice, and the sight of her soft,
wondering face made