ife, and soon again I got tired of remaining on
shore. I was eager to start on a new expedition, but what to do with my
daughter in the meanwhile I could not decide. I ought in common
humanity to have sent her back to her poor mother; but had I done so, I
was afraid I should not be able again to see her. She was so young when
I took her away that she did not know her real name. I therefore
carried her to Jersey, to which island my family belonged, and there
left her, pretending that her mother was French, and had died soon after
her birth. The arrangement having been made, I came out to the Indian
Seas and China, and, engaging in the opium trade, made a considerable
sum of money. I lost, however, the larger portion, and then once more,
seized with a desire to see my child, I returned to Jersey. I found her
grown into a beautiful girl. A new undertaking had presented itself to
me. I would go out to India, and make my fortune by serving under one
of the native princes. I had several times visited that country during
my wanderings. My daughter, I knew, would materially aid me in my
undertaking. As I placed before her the advantages to be gained in the
most glowing colours, and hid what I knew would be objectionable, she
willingly consented to accompany me. Her beauty, I felt sure, would
enable me to secure a wealthy marriage for her, but, as that might not
assist my views, I secretly resolved to throw her in the way of some
native prince, and she, once becoming his favourite wife, I felt very
sure that I should rise to the highest offices in his court. The
degradation to which I was dooming my child did not deter me; indeed, I
persuaded myself that I was about to procure a splendid position for
her, which she might well be satisfied to gain."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

Mr Noalles, as I will still call him, spoke with difficulty, but some
secret impulse, it seemed, made him anxious to disburden his mind. "I
make these confessions to you, Burton," he said, "because I want you to
convey to my poor wife, should you ever return to England, the
expression of my sorrow for the way I treated her; and if you can by any
means discover my daughter, that you may tell her, her miserable father
died blessing her; though, alas! I feel that blessings proceeding from
such lips as mine may turn to curses. But I did not tell you that
mercifully she escaped the dreadful fate to which I devoted her. Among
the passengers on board