er! How shall I overcome her repugnance? Not by
courting her; that's demonstrated. Only by being kind to her, and
letting her alone." Such was the tenor of his thoughts as he stood a
little behind her chair out of her sight.

But Jacquelina, when she found herself free, soon recovered, and arose
and left the room.

Until a day or two before Christmas, when, in the evening, she glided in
to her uncle's room and sunk down by his side--so unlike herself; so
like a spirit--that the old sinner impulsively shrank away from her, and
put out his hand to ring for lights.

"No; don't send for candles, uncle! Such a wretch as I am should tell
her errand in the dark."

"What do you mean now, minx?"

"Uncle, in all your voyages around the world did you ever stop at
Constantinople? And did you ever visit a slave mart there?"

"Yes; of course I have! What then? What the deuce are you dreaming of?"

"How much would such a girl as myself bring in the slave market of the
Sultan's city?"

"Are you crazy?" asked the commodore, opening his eyes to their widest
extent.

"I don't know. If I am, it can make little difference in your plans. But
as there is method in my madness, please to answer my question. How much
would I sell for in Constantinople?"

"You are mad; that's certain! How do I know--where beauties sell for
from five hundred to many thousand zechins. But you wouldn't sell for
much; you're too small and too thin."

"Beauty sells by the weight, does it? Well, uncle, I see that you
have been accustomed to the mart, for you know how to cheapen the
merchandise! Save yourself the trouble, uncle! I shall not live long,
and therefore I shall not have the conscience to ask a high price for
myself!"

"Mad! Mad as a March hare! As sure as shooting she is!" said the
commodore in dismay, staring at her until his great, fat eyes seemed
bursting from their sockets.

"Not so mad as you think, uncle, either. I have come to make a bargain
with you."

"What the foul fiend do you mean now? Do you want me to send you to
Constantinople, pray?"

Jacquelina laughed, something like her old silvery laugh, as she
answered:

"No, uncle; though if it were not for Mimmy, I really should prefer it
to marrying Grim!"

"What do you mean, then? Speak!"

"This, then, uncle: By what I have heard, and what I have seen, and what
I have surmised, I am already as deep in your secrets respecting Grim as
you are yourself."

"You speak falsely,