g he had come to reproach me; I asked him rather
sharply what he wanted. He shifted his hat from one hand to the other
and looked sheepish.

"Your pardon, sir," said he, "but your honour must be very ill-served
here."

"Better than I should be, Banks, for I have no money," I said, wondering
if he thought me a first-floor lodger.

He made no immediate reply to that, either, but seemed more uneasy still.
And I took occasion to note his appearance. He was exceeding neat in a
livery of his old master, which he had stripped of the trimmings. Then,
before I had guessed at his drift, he thrust his hand inside his coat and
drew forth a pile of carefully folded bank notes.

"I be a single man, sir, and has small need of this. And and I knows
your honour will pay me when your letter comes from America."

And he handed me five Bank of England notes of ten pounds apiece. I took
them mechanically, without knowing what I did. The generosity of the act
benumbed my senses, and for the instant I was inclined to accept the
offer upon the impulse of it.

"How do you know you would get your money again, Banks?" I asked
curiously.

"No fear, sir," he replied promptly, actually brightening at the
prospect. "I knows gentlemen, sir, them that are such, sir. And I will
go to America with you, and you say the word, sir."

I was more touched than I cared to show over his offer, which I scarce
knew how to refuse. In truth it was a difficult task, for he pressed me
again and again, and when he saw me firm, turned away to wipe his eyes
upon his sleeve. Then he begged me to let him remain and serve me in the
sponginghouse, saying that he would pay his own way. The very thought of
a servant in the bailiff's garret made me laugh, and so I put him off,
first getting his address, and promising him employment on the day of my
release.

On Wednesday we looked for a reply from Bristol, if not for the
appearance of Bell himself, and when neither came apprehension seized us
lest he had already sailed for Maryland. The slender bag of Thursday's
letters contained none for me. Nevertheless, we both did our best to
keep in humour, forbearing to mention to one another the hope that had
gone. Friday seemed the beginning of eternity; the day dragged through I
know not how, and toward evening we climbed back to our little room, not
daring to speak of what we knew in our hearts to be so,--that the
Sprightly Bess had sailed. We sat silently looking out over