away, leaving the
basket.

"There is something to eat and drink in that basket," observed Melchior;
"but I think, Japhet, you will agree with me, that it will be better to
yield to the wishes of Sir Henry, and not remain in this horrid hole."

"Very true, Melchior," replied I; "but allow me to ask you a question or
two. How came you here? where is Nattee, and how is it, that, after
leaving the camp, I find you so reduced in circumstances, as to be
serving such a man as Sir Henry de Clare?"

"A few words will explain that," replied he. "In my early days I was
wild, and I am, to tell you the truth, in the power of this man; nay, I
will tell you honestly, my life is in his power; he ordered me to come,
and I dare not disobey him--and he retains me here."

"And Nattee?"

"Is quite well, and with me, but not very happy in her present
situation; but he is a dangerous, violent, implacable man, and I dare
not disobey him. I advise you as a friend, to consent to his wishes."

"That requires some deliberation," replied I, "and I am not one of those
who are to be driven. My feelings towards Sir Henry, after this
treatment, are not the most amicable; besides, how am I to know that
Fleta is his relative?"

"Well, I can say no more, Japhet. I wish you well out of his hands."

"You have the power to help me, if that is the case," said I.

"I dare not."

"Then you are not the Melchior that you used to be," replied I.

"We must submit to fate. I must not stay longer; you will find all that
you want in the basket, and more candles, if you do not like being in
the dark. I do not think I shall be permitted to come again, till
to-morrow."

Melchior then went out, locked the door after him, and I was left to my
meditations.

PART TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND IN DEED--THE TABLES ARE TURNED, AND SO IS
THE KEY--THE ISSUE IS DEEP TRAGEDY.

Was it possible that which Melchior said was true? A little reflection
told me that it was all false, and that he was himself Sir Henry de
Clare. I was in his power, and what might be the result? He might
detain me, but he dare not murder me. Dare not! My heart sank when I
considered where I was, and how easy would it be for him to despatch me,
if so inclined, without anyone ever being aware of my fate. I lighted a
whole candle, that I might not find myself in the dark when I rose, and,
exhausted in body and mind, was soon fast asleep. I must ha