“I have been seeking another partner, sir.”

“Ho, ho-you have, have you?”

“Yes sir, and I thought—­”

“You thought, did you, sir, and pray, sir, what business had you to think?  Were you not sure of it-sure of her, you young dog, and of me also?  I love you, my brave young friend, and I felt an affection for you when you first came here.  Take her and be my son.  You saved her life and she is yours.  But be silent, now-none of your thanks.  I tell you I wont put up with them.”

The happy party sat down.  Melville by the side of Emily, and Mr. Inglis opposite them, viewing them with the utmost delight.

“But Henry, tell us something of your former life.  Whose son are you?”

“I was going to say, ‘the son of my father,’ but that not being sufficiently definite, I will tell you my father’s name.  I am the younger son of Sir Edmund Melville, Melville Hall, Warwickshire, England.”

“The-ahem!” cried Mr. Inglis.  “A baronet’s son!  Whew, and you were my servant!”

“I entered at Eton, nobody cared for me at home.  I went through Oxford, took first honor in the university, then went home, but being only a cipher-alias a younger son, they treated me coldly.  My father advised me to join the army.  I told him I would see the army shot first.  My mind was made up to come here.  Two hundred guineas constituted all my fortune.  All these I spent either before or during the passage out.  When I landed here I only had a half crown!”

“Good heavens, only half a crown!”

“All that I had in the world, except my clothes.  I sold them and commenced the business of confectioner.  You know the rest.”

“Why did you decide to be a servant?  Ah, I know now.  You look down at that little witch of a girl who is almost crying with joy.”

“I’m not, pa.  What nonsense!”

“Crying with joy. and she looks knowingly at you.  Ah, ha?  You have been rehearsing the play of ‘She stoops to conquer,’ only it was the gentleman in this case.  But now all your troubles are over.”

“All over.  I am happy.”

And his large, dark eyes gleamed with the joy which dwelt within him.

“Will three weeks be too soon, Emmie dearest?” said he, in a mysterious whisper.

“Nonsense, Henry,” and there came a smothered “don’t,” for Mr. Inglis had left them alone for a little time.

A few days afterward Melville was standing upon a wharf watching some passengers who landed from a vessel late from Melbourne.  Suddenly he started.  “Why, Marden,” he cried, springing forward to grasp the hand of a forlorn looking individual in a tattered hat and tattered coat.  “Where are you bound, young ’un?”

“Home.”

“Home? how is that?  Have you made your fortune?”

“No.  I’m as poor as a rat.  Only earned enough to take me back.  Hang the gold country!  But I declare, you look as if you had made your fortune.”