of what he had done.

"So you go to sea again?" observed Mynheer Poots.

"Yes, but not for two months, I expect," replied Philip.

"Ah!" replied Poots, "in two months!" and the old man muttered to
himself.

How true it is that we can more easily bear up against a real evil
than against suspense! Let it not be supposed that Amine fretted
at the thought of her approaching separation from her husband; she
lamented it, but feeling his departure to be an imperious duty, and
having it ever in her mind, she bore up against her feelings, and
submitted, without repining, to what could not be averted. There was,
however, one circumstance, which caused her much uneasiness--that was
the temper and conduct of her father. Amine, who knew his character
well, perceived that he already secretly hated Philip, whom he
regarded as an obstacle to his obtaining possession of the money in
the house; for the old man was well aware that, if Philip were dead,
his daughter would care little who had possession of, or what became
of it. The thought that Philip was about to take that money with him
had almost turned the brain of the avaricious old man. He had been
watched by Amine, and she had seen him walk for hours muttering to
himself, and not, as usual, attending to his profession.

A few evenings after his return from Amsterdam, Philip, who had taken
cold, complained of not being well.

"Not well!" cried the old man, starting up; "let me see--yes, your
pulse is very quick. Amine, your poor husband is very ill. He must go
to bed, and I will give him something which will do him good. I shall
charge you nothing, Philip--nothing at all."

"I do not feel so very unwell, Mynheer Poots," replied Philip; I have
had a bad headache certainly."

"Yes, and you have fever also, Philip, and prevention is better than
cure; so go to bed, and take what I send you, and you will be well
to-morrow."

Philip went upstairs, accompanied by Amine; and Mynheer Poots went
into his own room to prepare the medicine. So soon as Philip was in
bed, Amine went downstairs, and was met by her father, who put a
powder into her hands to give to her husband, and then left the
parlour.

"God forgive me if I wrong my father," thought Amine; "but I have my
doubts. Philip is ill, more so than he will acknowledge; and if he
does not take some remedies, he may be worse--but my heart misgives
me--I have a foreboding. Yet surely he cannot be so diabolically
wicked."

Amine