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father?"

"No," said the son, who had so lately been a boy, "I have no news to
give her, but I am going to get news for her."

She looked at him in amazement; then she exclaimed: "You!"

"Yes," he said, "there is no one else. And besides I would not want any
one else to do it. I am going to Bridgetown in the brig which brought us
here; it is a little sail, and when I get there I will find out
everything. No matter what has happened, it will break her heart to
think that her father deserted her without a word. I don't believe he
did it, and I shall go and find out."

"But, Dickory," she said, with anxious, upraised face, "how can you get
back? Do you know of any vessel that will be sailing this way?"

He laughed.

"Get back? If I go alone, dear mother, you may be sure I shall soon get
back. Craft of all kinds sail one way or another, and there are many
ways in which I can get back not thought of in ordinary passage. When
any kind of a vessel sails from Jamaica, I can get on board of her,
whether she takes passengers or not. I can sleep on a bale of goods or
on the bare deck; I can work with the crew, if need be. Oh! you need not
doubt that I shall speedily come back."

They talked long together, this mother and this son, and it was her
golden dreams for him that made her invoke Heaven's blessings upon him
and tell him to go. She knew, too, that it was wise for her to tell him
to go and to bless him, for it would have been impossible to withstand
him, so set was he in his purpose.

"I tell you, Dame Charter," said Mr. Delaplaine an hour later, "this son
of yours should be a great credit and pride to you, and he will be, I
stake my word upon it."

"He is now," said the good woman quietly.

"I have been pondering in my brain," said he, "what I should do to
relieve my niece of this burden of anxiety which is weighing upon her. I
could see no way, for letters would be of no use, not knowing where to
send them, and it would be dreary, indeed, to sit and wait and sigh and
dream bad dreams until chance throws some light upon this grievous
business, and here steps up this young fellow and settles the whole
matter. When he comes back, Dame Charter, I shall do well for him; I
shall put him in my counting-house, for, although doubtless he would
fain live his young life in the fields and under the open sky, he will
find the counting-house lies on the road to fortune, and good fortune he
deserves."

If that loving mot