t
benumbed my senses, and for the instant I was inclined to accept the
offer upon the impulse of it.

"How do you know you would get your money again, Banks?" I asked
curiously.

"No fear, sir," he replied promptly, actually brightening at the
prospect. "I knows gentlemen, sir, them that are such, sir. And I will
go to America with you, and you say the word, sir."

I was more touched than I cared to show over his offer, which I scarce
knew how to refuse. In truth it was a difficult task, for he pressed me
again and again, and when he saw me firm, turned away to wipe his eyes
upon his sleeve. Then he begged me to let him remain and serve me in the
sponginghouse, saying that he would pay his own way. The very thought of
a servant in the bailiff's garret made me laugh, and so I put him off,
first getting his address, and promising him employment on the day of my
release.

On Wednesday we looked for a reply from Bristol, if not for the
appearance of Bell himself, and when neither came apprehension seized us
lest he had already sailed for Maryland. The slender bag of Thursday's
letters contained none for me. Nevertheless, we both did our best to
keep in humour, forbearing to mention to one another the hope that had
gone. Friday seemed the beginning of eternity; the day dragged through I
know not how, and toward evening we climbed back to our little room, not
daring to speak of what we knew in our hearts to be so,--that the
Sprightly Bess had sailed. We sat silently looking out over the dreary
stretch of roofs and down into a dingy court of Bernard's Inn below, when
suddenly there arose a commotion on the stairs, as of a man mounting
hastily. The door was almost flung from its hinges, some one caught me
by the shoulders, gazed eagerly into my face, and drew back. For a space
I thought myself dreaming. I searched my memory, and the name came. Had
it been Dorothy, or Mr. Carvel himself, I could not have been more
astonished, and my knees weakened under me.

"Jack!" I exclaimed; "Lord Comyn!"

He seized my hand. "Yes; Jack, whose life you saved, and no other," he
cried, with a sailor's impetuosity. "My God, Richard! it was true,
then; and you have been in this place for three weeks!"

"For three weeks," I repeated.

He looked at me, at John Paul, who was standing by in bewilderment, and
then about the grimy, cobwebbed walls of the dark garret, and then turned
his back to hide his emotion, and so met the bailiff, who wa