to protect a Bohemian singer from insult.  Beyond this nothing could be heard of him.  He had not been seen in the fray in the street, when several of the rioters had been captured and carried off by the watch, and some supposed that he might have left the place at the back, in which case it was feared that he might have been fallen upon and assassinated by the ruffians in the low quarter lying behind the drinking hall.  Jacob had worked himself into a state of high fever by his anxiety, and upon returning to the hotel had become so violent that they were forced to restrain him.  He had been bled and blistered, but had remained for a fortnight in a state of violent fever and delirium.  This had now somewhat abated, but he was in such a weak state that the doctors feared the worst.

The return of Harry did more for him than all the doctors of Hamburg.  He seemed at once to recognize his voice, and the pressure of his hand soothed and calmed him.  He presently fell into a deep sleep, in which he lay for twelve hours, and on opening his eyes at once recognized his friend.  His recovery now was rapid, and in a week he was able to sit up.

One morning the servant told Harry that a gentleman wished to speak to him, and a moment after his father entered.  With a cry of delight father and son flew into each other’s arms.  It was four years since they had met, and both were altered much.  The colonel had aged greatly, while Harry had grown into a broad and powerful man.

“My dear father, this is an unexpected pleasure indeed,” Harry said, when the first burst of delight was over.  “Did you not get my letter from London, saying that I hoped shortly to be with you?”

“From London!” the colonel exclaimed, astonished.  “No, indeed; I have received no letter save that which your boy brought me.  We started a week later for Southampton, where we were detained nigh ten days for a ship.”

“And who is the we, father?” Harry asked anxiously.

“Ah,” the old man said, “now you are in a hurry to know.  Who should it be but Master Rippinghall and a certain young lady?”

“Oh, father, has Lucy really come?”

“Assuredly she has,” Colonel Purness said, “and is now waiting in a private room below with her brother, for Sir Harry.  I have not congratulated you yet, my boy, on your new dignity.”

“And you really consent to my marriage, sir?”

“I don’t see that I could help it,” the colonel said, “since you had set your mind on it, especially as when I came to inquire I found the young lady was willing to go to Virginia.  But we must talk of that anon.  Yes, Harry, you have my full consent.  The young lady is not quite of the rank of life I should have chosen for you; but ranks and classes are all topsy-turvy in England at present, and when we are ruled over by a brewer, it would be nice indeed to refuse to take a wool-stapler’s sister for wife.  But seriously, Harry, I am well