t is the will of Heaven that it should be otherwise," continued Mr
Seagrave; "I would give half that I am possessed of, that he had not
perished."

"Oh, Massa!" said Juno, "I sit by him just now; I take off the flag and
look at his face, so calm, look so happy, so good, I almost tink he
smile at me, and then I cry. Oh! Massa Tommy, all because you idle
boy."

"It adds much to my regret," replied Mr Seagrave, "that his life should
have been sacrificed through the thoughtlessness of one of my own
children; what a lesson it will be to Tommy when he is old enough to
comprehend the consequences of his conduct."

"That he must not know, papa," said William, who had been leaning
mournfully over the table; "one of Ready's last injunctions was that
Tommy was never to be told of it."

"His last wishes shall be religiously attended to, my dear boy," replied
Mr Seagrave; "for what do we not owe to that good old man? When others
deserted us and left us to perish, he remained with us to share our
fate. By his skill we were saved and landed in safety. He provided for
our wants, added to our comforts, instructed us how to make the best use
of our means. Without his precautions we should have perished by the
spears of the savages. What an example of Christian fortitude and
humility did he ever show us! and indeed, I may truly say, that by his
example, sinful as I must ever be, I have become, I trust, a better man.
Would that he were now sitting by us,--but the Lord's will be done!"

"I feel as if I had lost a stay or prop," replied Mrs Seagrave. "So
accustomed have I been to look to him for advice since we have been on
this island. Had he not been thus snatched from us--had he been spared
to us a few years, and had we been permitted to surround his death-bed,
and close his eyes in peace--" and Mrs Seagrave wept upon the shoulder
of her husband.

After a time, Mrs Seagrave recovered herself; but silence ensued, only
broken by an occasional sob from poor Juno. William's heart was too
full; he could not for a long while utter a word; at last he said in a
low voice:

"I feel that, next to my dear father and mother, I have lost my best
friend. I cannot forgive myself for allowing him to go for the water;
it was my duty to go, and I ought to have gone."

"And yet we could have ill spared you, my dear boy; you might have
perished," replied Mrs Seagrave.

"It would have been as God willed," replied William; "I might have