but oh! how slowly it grows! Even darling grandmamma has got some
light sewing work which brings in a little. But our hearts mourn
because of you. We earnestly hope that the pirates treat you well,
("Thank God they do not know anything about _that_," muttered
Francisco), and we feel almost sure that they do, because we have been
told that they are careful of the slaves who, they hope, will be
ransomed. I have therefore written to the Dey--how I hated him while
I wrote the humble letter!--telling him that we hoped to raise the sum
in a short time. Every one here is very kind and sympathises with us,
besides giving a contribution to the fund.

"`This letter goes by a French vessel which is to touch at Algiers,
and which conveys a priest who has a large sum of money with him to
ransom Sicilian and other slaves. I entreated him to ransom you with
part of it, but he smiled pitifully, and said the money had been
raised by the friends of particular slaves, some of whom had been many
years in captivity, and that it could not be diverted from its proper
objects. How my heart sank when he spoke of some being in slavery for
many years! But it was cheered again when I reflected how hard we are
all working to raise the money for you and Lucien and Mariano. We
send you all our dear love.--Your affectionate daughter.

"Shall I have an opportunity of answering this?" asked Francisco,
eagerly.

"Yes; I am about to conduct you to the palace, where your son Lucien--
who, I may mention, is a favourite--awaits you."

"You mustn't let them know the truth, father," said Mariano earnestly.

"Would you have him tell them what is false?" asked the Padre gravely.

"No, no," replied the youth, with a laugh, "but there is no occasion to
mention all that we have suffered, you know; and there is a good deal--I
mean a little--that is agreeable to communicate. For instance, this
very summons to the palace, and Lucien's good luck."

"Trust me, lad," said Francisco; "I won't fail to cheer them if I can,
and you may be sure I won't exaggerate our misfortunes.--But lead on,
old man; I am anxious to get out of this foul den as quickly as--"

"Forgive me, comrades," he added, checking himself, and turning to the
slaves near him; "I am grieved more than I can tell to leave you behind.
If by remaining I could lighten your sorrows, I would gladly do so. It
may seem presumptuous in one who is himself a slav