intently into his face: "you are
young, very young," he said, "crime has made no wrinkles in your face
yet. Mine is full of age and crime, and a heart filled with remorse,
have burned their deep seals into mine. Look you, young man," and he
pointed to his eyes, "these eyes were not made to weep. But this poor
heart of mine is crushed with its crimes." Here he pressed his right
hand to his heart, and raised his eyes upwards, as if imploring Heaven's
forgiveness in silence.

This continued invoking Heaven's forgiveness excited Tite's curiosity to
know something of the old man's strange and wonderful history, for he
already began to feel that there was a terrible crime at the bottom of
it. When they had partaken of supper and were all seated around the fire
on their skins, and nothing but the music of the brook was heard
outside, the old man requested Tite to give him an account of his
voyage, together with the place and manner of their shipwreck. Tite was
glad to comply with the old man's request, for it afforded him an
excellent excuse for making a similar one.

The reader has already been made familiar with Tite's unfortunate
voyage, hence it will not be necessary to repeat it. The recital
interested the old man deeply, and when he had reached that part which
described their troubles in the cave, the old man's eyes sparkled, and
his whole nature seemed to warm into enthusiasm.

"There's where my ship lays, guns and all," he said, pressing his hands
on his knees. "My men used to call this island 'No Man's Island,' and
they named that place 'The Cave of Enchantment.' Then they named it
after me. The natives on an island ten leagues from this have a queer
superstition concerning it. They call it the devil's last resting place,
and assert that it is peopled by mermaids, who get honest navigators
into it, and then destroy them. My ship lays there, guns and all," he
repeated.

When Tite had finished his story, the old man began his by saying:
"Heaven forgive me, for I am a great sinner, and have much to answer for
in the next world. I was born in Bristol, England. My father was a
clergyman of the established church. I have no remembrance of my mother,
for she died when I was an infant. When I was fifteen years old I was
sent to sea as a means of bettering my morals. I served first on board
an Indiaman, made two voyages to China, and was wrecked on the coast of
Malabar; and when I got home my father or friends procured me