very poor, Mr
Vanderdecken--"

But Amine put her hand upon her father's lips, and the sentence was not
finished.

"Father," said Amine, "it is time that we retire. You must leave us for
to-night, Philip."

"I will not," replied Philip; "nor, you may depend upon it, will I
sleep. You may both to bed in safety. It is indeed time that you
retire--good night, Mynheer Poots. I will but ask a lamp, and then I
leave you--Amine, good night."

"Good night," said Amine, extending her hand, "and many, many thanks."

"Thousands of guilders!" muttered the old man, as Philip left the room
and went below.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Philip Vanderdecken sat down at the porch of the door; he swept his hair
from his forehead, which he exposed to the fanning of the breeze; for
the continued excitement of the last three days had left a fever on his
brain which made him restless and confused. He longed for repose, but
he knew that for him there was no rest. He had his forebodings--he
perceived in the vista of futurity a long-continued chain of danger and
disaster, even to death; yet he beheld it without emotion and without
dread. He felt as if it were only three days that he had begun to
exist; he was melancholy, but not unhappy. His thoughts were constantly
recurring to the fatal letter--its strange supernatural disappearance
seemed pointedly to establish its supernatural origin, and that the
mission had been intended for him alone; and the relic in his possession
more fully substantiated the fact.

"It is my fate, my duty," thought Philip. Having satisfactorily made up
his mind to these conclusions, his thoughts reverted to the beauty, the
courage, and presence of mind shown by Amine. "And," thought he, as he
watched the moon soaring high in the heavens, "is this fair creature's
destiny to be interwoven with mine? The events of the last three days
would almost warrant the supposition. Heaven only knows, and Heaven's
will be done. I have vowed, and my vow is registered, that I will
devote my life to the release of my unfortunate father--but does that
prevent my loving Amine?--No, no; the sailor on the Indian seas must
pass months and months on shore before he can return to his duty. My
search must be on the broad ocean, but how often may I return? and why
am I to be debarred the solace of a smiling hearth?--and yet--do I right
in winning the affections of one who, if she loves, would, I am
convinced, love so dearly, fondly