cended to the
main deck, where, procuring a lantern, they proceeded aft.

We must return to Uncle Nathan and Pat Fegan, whom we left on their way
to the fugitive in the hold of the steamer.

"Whisht, now," said Pat, in a whisper, as they prepared to jump down the
hatchway; "whisht, now, and don't spake a loud word, for the life of
yous."

Uncle Nathan promised obedience, and followed Pat into the hold. All was
total darkness, and it was not without a feeling of superstitious dread
that Uncle Nathan heard his companion tap on the box which contained
the mulatto. He heard the whispered recognition of its inmate, and stood
like a statue while Hatchie freed himself from his confinement.

"Whisht, now," said Pat, in a low voice; "give me your hand, Mr. Binson.
Now, there yous are," and he placed Uncle Nathan's hand in that of
Hatchie.

Uncle Nathan found the hand was warm, and felt completely relieved of
the sensation of fear which had come over him.

"Glad to see you," said he, though an instant afterwards his conscience
asked him if he had not told a lie, inasmuch as it was so dark he could
not see anything.

"You are a _friend_, I trust," replied Hatchie, who, although he
implicitly relied on the _faith_ of the Irish ally, had not the fullest
confidence in his judgment. Nothing but what he deemed a stern necessity
would have compelled him to trust the secret with any one. So many
dangers encompassed him, that the duty he owed to his injured mistress
obliged him to look around for the means of preserving the valuable
document he possessed. An accident to the steamer, the continuous danger
of being restored to Jaspar, and a hundred other painful reflections,
brought him to the resolution of depositing the will in the hands of the
most trustworthy person he could find. In this extremity, he canvassed
the characters of all he knew on board. Henry Carroll, he feared, was
too impetuous, if not actually devoted to Jaspar. He knew nothing of the
interesting relation which the hearts of the lovers had
recognized,--pity he did not! Uncle Nathan, whom Pat had described in
glowing colors,--none are more highly esteemed than those who confer the
most solid benefits,--seemed to him the proper person, especially as Pat
had seen _her_ speak to him after the accident. An honest man is so
easily known, that the poor Irishman's instinctive knowledge of human
nature imparted the most correct information.

"I _am_ your friend, and I