“Is that the chain,” asked Luke, as he came up behind the fisherman’s chair, and clapped Old Briton on the shoulder.  “You could trade that for a silver watch.”

“What’s that?” asked Briton, quickly taking up the lad’s words; and he pulled out his pewter watch and laid it on the table.  “A silver watch?” said he.

“A silver watch, as good as ever run, for that gold chain.  Just see how fine it is!”

“So, so!” said the fisherman, thoughtfully resting his rough chin in his broad palm.  That was his attitude, when, at home, he contemplated any of those famous bargains which always turned out so differently from anything that he anticipated.

“Let Luke do the trading for ye,” said Briton’s wife, quickly recognizing his symptoms.

She looked from the lad to her daughter, and back again, five or six times in a second,—­seeing more than most people could have seen in observation apparently so careless and superficial.

“I kept a sharp look out, Clary, all day, but I saw nothing,” said Luke, going over to the hearth.

“Nothing,—­but,” he added, she looked so disappointed, “but, for all that, some one else may.”

“Oh, I hope so"!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Briton.

“The shipwreck,” said Luke.

“Oh!—­well, Luke,—­will you make the trade, Sir?  What do you say, Clarice?  The chain belongs to you, after all,” said Briton, with a laugh,—­he could not help the shipwreck.  “What are you going to do with it, my girl?”

“It is yours, father.”

“Thank ye!—­a present!” Old Briton looked well pleased.

“And if Luke will take it over”—­

“I’ll go to-night,” said Luke, ready to start that moment, if such was the wish of any person in the house.

Briton laughed.  “No, you won’t,” said he.  “What the deuse!—­Sit down and take something.  What are you all standing about for?  Sit down.  You shall do the trading, Luke.  There now, I’ve said it, and I hope you are all easy.”

He laughed again; for he knew very well—­he had often enough heard it stated in full—­the estimate set on his skill in making a bargain.

“You haven’t seen the ring yet?” said Dame Briton, quite kindly, now that this matter was settled to her mind.  “Where’s the ring, Clarice?”

Other eyes were on the girl besides those of her mother.  Old Briton pushed back his dish, and looked at Clarice.  Luke was smiling.  That smile became joyful and beautiful to see, when Clarice, blushing, removed the string from her neck and showed the ring.

“That’s neat,” said Briton, turning the delicate ornament round and round, examining its chaste workmanship admiringly.  “I never saw a pearl like that, Mother.  What do you wear it round your neck for, Clarice?—­put it on your finger.”

Luke Merlyn had come to Briton’s cabin to explain how matters stood between him and Clarice, as well as to look after the other bargain.  Taking advantage of her hesitation, he now said,—­