There was a pause, broken at last by Yansen’s saying significantly to his employer, “as per margin.”

The merchant turned to the unhappy young man.  “Take heart,” said he, “’Wenn die noth ist amgroeszten die huelfe ist am naechsten.’[11] There’s an old German proverb for you.  Sit down and hear what I have to say.  I think myself not a little fortunate in so soon being able to fulfil the wishes of my English correspondents; your natural alarm did not suffer you to finish their letter; you will perceive how generously they mean to act; their house’s credit saved, they intend not to punish you.  Read, read; and Yansen, order some eatables, and a bottle or two of my old Heidelberg hock, trouble always makes me thirsty—­three glasses, my good Yansen.”

    [11] When things are at the worst they must mend.

Again the young Englishman hid his face, and sighed convulsively, “I do not deserve this lenity.  My excellent father! this is a tribute to your virtue.”

Von Kapell left his guest’s reflections undisturbed, till a servant entered, who placed refreshments on a well polished oak table; when she retired, he resumed.

“And now, what devil tempted you to play the—­runaway?” swallowing the term he had intended to use.  “Was it for the wenches, or the dicing table?”

“Spare me, most kind and worthy sir, I intreat you!  To my father I will make full confession of all my faults; but he must be the first to know the origin of my crimes.”

“Well, well, take another glass of wine; you shall stay in my house till we can find a passage for you.  It was but last night my good ship the Christine sailed for Batavia, and—­”

“Under favour,” interrupted Yansen, “she has not yet left the harbour; the wind blew too fresh for her to venture on crossing the sand-banks at night, and it is now only shifting round a point or two.”

“You are lucky, youngster;” quickly added the merchant, “the Christine has noble accommodations; you shall aboard this evening.  Put these in the chest, good Yansen,” handing him the bills, “and count me out the two hundred louis d’or the boy is to have.  Come, man! finish your meal, for I see,” said he, regarding a vane on the gable of an opposite house, “you have no time to lose.”

The meal was finished—­the money given—­the worthy merchant adding as much good advice as the brief space would permit.  The Briton was profuse in his expressions of gratitude, promised amendment, and returned the warm grasp of Von Kapell, unable to speak for his tears.  Yansen accompanied him on board, gave the owner’s most particular charge to the skipper, to pay his passenger every attention on the voyage.  The vessel cleared the harbour—­was in a few hours out of sight—­and the next morning, Mynheer Von Kapell wrote to London a full account of the transaction, returning the bills he had so fortunately recovered.

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