York. His affairs were large
enough to keep, and he had given himself plenty of time. But
nevertheless his affairs were the object in view; and though he did not
like to talk about those things, even with Barker, the fate of Claudius
and Margaret as compared with the larger destinies of the Green Swash
Mining Company were as the humble and unadorned mole-hill to the glories
of the Himalaya. People had criticised the Duke's financial career in
England. Why had he sold that snuffbox that Marie Therese gave to his
ancestor when--well, you know when? Why had he converted those
worm-eaten manuscripts, whereon were traced many valuable things in a
variety of ancient tongues, into coin of the realm? And why had he
turned his Irish estates into pounds, into shillings, yea, and into
pence. Pence--just think of it! He had sold his ancestral lands for
_pence_; that was what it came to. These and many other things the
scoffers scoffed, with a right good-will. But none save the Duke could
tell how many broad fields of ripening grain, and vine-clad hills, and
clean glistening miles of bright rail, and fat ore lands sodden with
wealth of gold and silver and luscious sulphurets--none save the Duke
could tell how much of these good things the Duke possessed in that
great land beyond the sea, upon which if England were bodily set down it
would be as hard to find as a threepenny bit in a ten-acre field. But
the Duke never told. He went about his business quietly, for he said in
his heart, "Tush! I have children to be provided for; and if anything
happens to the old country, I will save some bacon for them in the new,
and they may call themselves dukes or farmers as far as I am concerned;
but they shall not lack a few hundred thousand acres of homestead in the
hour of need, neither a cow or two or a pig."

The breeze held well, on the whole, and old Sturleson said they were
having a wonderful run, which was doubtless an effort on the part of
nature to atone for the injury she had done. But the days flew by, and
yet they were not at their voyage's end. At last, as they sat sunning
themselyes in the fair September weather, Sturleson came to them, his
bright quadrant, with its coloured glasses sticking out in all
directions, in his hand, and told the Duke he thought that by to-morrow
afternoon they would sight the Hook. The party were all together, as it
happened, and there was a general shout, in which, however, Claudius
joined but faintly.