“’Twill be made sooner.  I believe the history of my predecessor was no secret to you.  The manner in which he was driven from the marine of the Stuarts, on account of his opposition to tyranny; his refuge with an only daughter, in the colonies; and his final recourse to the free-trade for a livelihood, have often been alluded to between us.”

“Hum—­I have a good memory for business, Master Skimmer, but I am as forgetful as a new-made lord of his pedigree, on all matters that should be overlooked.  I dare say, however, it was as you have stated.”

“You know, that when my protector and predecessor abandoned the land, he took his all with him upon the water.”

“He took a wholesome and good-going schooner, Master Skimmer, with an assorted freight of chosen tobacco, well ballasted with stones from off the seashore.  He was no foolish admirer of sea-green women, and flaunting brigantines.  Often did the royal cruisers mistake the worthy dealer for an industrious fisherman!”

“He had his humors, and I have mine.  But you forget a part of the freight he carried;—­a part that was not the least valuable.”

“There might have been a bale of marten’s furs—­for the trade was just getting brisk in that article.”

“There was a beautiful, an innocent, and an affectionate girl------”

The Alderman made an involuntary movement which nearly hid his countenance from his companion.

“There was, indeed, a beautiful, and, as you say, a most warm-hearted girl, in the concern!” he uttered, in a voice that was subdued and hoarse.  “She died, as I have heard from thyself, Master Skimmer, in the Italian seas.  I never saw the father, after the last visit of his child to this coast.”

“She did die, among the islands of the Mediterranean.  But the void she left in the hearts of all who knew her, was filled, in time, by her—­daughter.”

The Alderman started from his chair, and, looking the free-trader intently and anxiously in the face, he slowly repeated the word—­

“Daughter!”

“I have said it.—­Eudora is the daughter of that injured woman—­need I say, who is the father?”

The burgher groaned, and, covering his face with his hands, he sunk back into his chair, shivering convulsively.

“What evidence have I of this?” he at length muttered—­“Eudora is thy sister!”

The answer of the free-trader was accompanied by a melancholy smile.

“You have been deceived.  Save the brigantine my being is attached to nothing.  When my own brave father fell by the side of him who protected my youth, none of my blood were left.  I loved him as a father, and he called me son, while Eudora was passed upon you as the child of a second marriage But here is sufficient evidence of her birth.”