ay to his mother, and led her into an
adjoining room.

Corrie had overheard the words spoken by Henry just as he entered, and
great was his curiosity to know what was the mystery connected with the
pirate captain. This curiosity was intensified when he heard a
half-suppressed shriek in the room where mother and son were closeted.
For one moment he was tempted to place his ear to the key-hole! But a
blush covered his fat cheeks at the very thought of acting such a
disgraceful part. Like a wise fellow he did not give the tempter a
second opportunity, but, seizing the hand of his companion, said--

"Come along, Alice, we'll go seek for Bumpus."

Half-an-hour afterwards the widow stood at the jail door. The jailer
was an intimate friend, and considerately retired during the interview.

"O Gascoyne, has it come to this?" She sat down beside the pirate, and
grasped one of his manacled hands in both of hers.

"Even so, Mary, my hour has come. I do not complain of my doom. I have
brought it on myself."

"But why not try to escape?" said Mrs Stuart, earnestly. "There are
some here who could aid you."

Here the widow attempted to reason with Gascoyne, as her son had done
before, but with similar want of success. Gascoyne remained immovable.
He did indeed betray deep emotion while the woman reasoned with him, in
tones of intense earnestness; but he would not change his mind. He said
that if Montague, as the representative of the law, would set him free
in consideration of what he had recently done, he would accept of
liberty; but nothing would induce him to attempt to escape.

Leaving him in this mood, Mrs Stuart hurried to the cottage where
Montague had taken up his abode.

The young captain received her kindly. Having learned from Corrie all
about the friendship that existed between the widow and Gascoyne, he
listened with the utmost consideration to her.

"It is impossible," said he, shaking his head; "I _cannot_ set him
free."

"Do his late services weigh nothing with you?" pleaded the widow.

"My dear madam," replied Montague, sorrowfully, "you forget that I am
not his judge. I have no right to weigh the circumstances of his case.
He is a convicted and self-acknowledged pirate. My only duty is to
convey him to England and hand him over to the officers of justice. I
sympathise with you, indeed I do, for you seem to take his case to heart
very much, but I cannot help you. I _must_ do my duty. The _