ught of, not his stomach.

He was a strange old man, not unlike my mother, but with a nose more
hooked, small dark eyes, and a bald head on which he set a cap of
velvet. Even in the heat of summer he was always cold and wore a frayed
fur robe, complaining much if he came into a draught of air. Indeed he
looked like a Jew, though a good Christian enough, and laughed about
it, because he said that this appearance of his served him well in his
trade, since Jews were always feared, and it was held to be impossible
to overreach them.

For the rest I only recalled that he examined me as to my book learning
which did not satisfy him, and went about valuing all our goods and
fishing-boats, showing my mother how we were being cheated and might
earn more than we did. When he departed he gave me a gold piece and said
that Life was nothing but vanity, and that I must pray for his soul when
he was dead as he was sure it would need such help, also that I ought
to put the gold piece out to interest. This I did by buying with it a
certain fierce mastiff dog I coveted that had been brought on a ship
from Norway, which dog bit some great man in our town, who hauled my
mother before the bailiff about it and caused the poor beast to be
killed, to my great wrath.

Now that I came to think of it, I had liked my Uncle John well enough
although he was so different from others. Why should I not go to him?
Because I did not wish to sit in a shop in London, I who loved the sea
and the open air; also because I feared he might ask me what I had done
with that gold piece and make a mock of me about the dog. Yet my mother
had bidden me go, and it was her last command to me, her dying words
which it would be unlucky to disobey. Moreover, our boats and house
were burnt and I must work hard and long before these could be replaced.
Lastly, in London I should see no more of the lady Blanche Aleys, and
there could learn to forget the lights in her blue eyes. So I determined
that I would go, and at last fell asleep.

Next morning I made my confession to the old priest that, amongst other
matters, he might shrive me of the blood which I had shed, though this
he said needed no forgiveness from God or man, being, as I think, a
stout Englishman at heart. Also I took counsel with him as to what I
should do, and he told me it was my duty to obey my mother's wishes,
since such last words were often inspired from on high and declared the
will of Heaven. Further