d now, sir,
I must leave you to make the communication as soon, and, at the same time,
as cautiously as you please. Newton, send Amber down to me."

We will pass over the scenes which followed in the dining-parlour and
drawing-room. The Marquis de Fontanges discovered that he was blest with a
daughter, at the same time that Amber learnt her own history. In a few
minutes Amber was led upstairs to the arms of her father, whose tears of
sorrow at the loss of his wife were now mingled with those of delight, as
he clasped his daughter to his heart.

"What obligations do I owe to your whole family, my dear friend!" said the
Marquis to Newton.

"I will not deny it, sir," replied Newton; "but allow me to observe, that
for the recovery of your daughter you are equally indebted to the
generosity of your own relatives and your own feeling disposition. Had not
Monsieur and Madame de Fontanges protected and assisted me in my distress;
had not you, instead of throwing me into prison, set me at liberty, you
never would have known where your daughter was to be found. Had not one of
my uncles hastened to the relief of the vessel in distress, and the other
protected your little girl after his death, she would not have been now in
existence. My gratitude for your kindness induced me to remain by your
ship, and subsequently to rescue you from the pirate, or you would not have
now been a prisoner in this country--an evil which, under divine
Providence, has been changed to a blessing, by restoring to you your
daughter. We have all, I trust, done our duty, and this happy issue is our
full reward."

"Humph!" observed the old lawyer.

Chapter LIII

"Thus far our chronicle--and now we pause,
Though not for want of matter, but 'tis time."

BYRON.

Amber, or Julie de Fontanges, as we must now call her, quitted the abode of
her kind protector in such distress, that it was evident she regretted the
discovery which had been made. She was too young to be aware of the
advantages of high birth, and her removal was for some time a source of
unfeigned regret. It appeared to her that nothing could compensate for the
separation from her supposed father, who doted on her, from Mrs Forster,
who had watched over her, from Nicholas, who amused her, and from Newton,
whom she loved as a brother. But the idea of going to a foreign country,
and never seeing them or William Aveleyn again, and, though last, not
least, to find that she w