“As I hope for salvation,” the captain concluded, “I will swear there is not such another villain in the world as Grafton.  The imagination of a fiend alone could have conceived and brought to execution the crime he has committed.  And the Borgias were children to him.  ’Twas not only the love of money that urged him, but hatred of you and of your father.  That was his strongest motive, I believe.  However, the days are coming, lad, when he shall have his reward, unless all signs fail.  And we have had enough of sober talk,” said he, pressing me to eat.  “Faith, but just now, when you came in, I was thinking of you, Richard.  And—­God forgive me! complaining against the lot of my life.  And thinking, now that you were taken out of it, and your father and mother and grandfather gone, how little I had to live for.  Now you are home again,” says he, his eyes lighting on me with affection, “I count the gray hairs as nothing.  Let us have your story, and be merry.  Nay, I might have guessed you had been in London, with your fine clothes and your English servant.”

’Twas a long story, as you know, my dears.  He lighted his pipe and laid his big hand over mine, and filled my glass, and I told him most of that which had happened to me.  But I left out the whole of that concerning Mr. Manners and the Duke of Chartersea, nor did I speak of the sponging-house.  I believe my only motive for this omittance was a reluctance to dwell upon Dorothy, and a desire to shield her father for her sake.  He dropped many a vigorous exclamation into my pauses, but when I came to speak of my friendship with Mr. Fox, his brow clouded over.

“’Ad’s heart!” he cried, “’Ad’s heart!  And so you are turned Tory, and have at last been perverted from those principles for which I loved you most.  In the old days my conscience would not allow me to advise you, Richard, and now that I am free to speak, you are past advice.”

I laughed aloud.

“And what if I tell you that I made friends with his Grace of Grafton, and Lord Sandwich, and was invited to Hichinbroke, his Lordship’s seat?” said I.

His honest face was a picture of consternation.

“Now the good Lord deliver us!” he exclaimed fervently.  “Sandwich!  Grafton!  The devil!”

I gave myself over to the first real merriment I had had since I had heard of Mr. Carvel’s death.

“And when Mr. Fox learned that I had lost my fortune,” I went on, “he offered me a position under Government.”

“Have you not friends enough at home to care for you, sir?” he said, his face getting purple.  “Are you Jack Carvel’s son, or are you an impostor?”

“I am Jack Carvel’s son, dear Captain Daniel, and that is why I am here,” I replied.  “I am a stouter Whig than ever, and I believe I might have converted Mr. Fox himself had I remained at home sufficiently long,” I added, with a solemn face.  And, for my own edification, I related how I had bearded his Majesty’s friends at Brooks’s, whereat he gave a great, joyful laugh, and thumped me on the back.