treat you to extend your
kindness towards her, but I fear she will soon require no earthly aid.
Still, soothe her last moments with a promise to protect the orphan,
and may God bless you for your kindness.

"Your affectionate son, EDWARD."

Peters had scarcely finished this letter when Adams, with the boy in his
arms, was admitted. "I come for final orders, Peters, and to tell you
what I did last night to this boy. He is real stuff,--never winced.
You said he was to be the King's, and I thought you would like that he
should be marked as such. There is no mistaking this mark, Peters,"
continued Adams, baring the boy's shoulder, and showing the impression
of the broad-headed arrow, which now appeared angry and inflamed, as it
always is for some days after the operation. "I did not mention that I
was going to do it, because Ellen then might not have liked it: but I
hope you do."

"Many, many thanks," answered Peters; and opening his letter, which was
folded, but not sealed, he added a postscript, pointing out the mark by
which the boy would be identified. "You could not have done me a
greater favour, Adams; and now you must promise me one more, which is to
look after my poor Ellen when--"

"I understand, my good fellow, and I will," replied Adams. "There is
the chaplain outside, who is all ready for service if you would like to
see him," continued the old man, passing his hands over his humid eyes.

"Ask him to come in, Adams; he is a good man, and an honour to his
profession. I shall be glad to see him."

Adams went to the door, and soon returned with the chaplain. He saluted
Peters, who respectfully bowed to him, and said: "I have long made my
peace with God and man, sir, and am as well prepared to die, as sinful
mortal can be in faith and charity with all men. Many thanks to you,
sir, for your kindness; but, sir, you may be of use here yet. Can
you,"--and his voice faltered,--"can you, sir, help that poor young
woman? Cannot you reason her into some kind of tranquillity, some
degree of submission to God's will? Oh, do that, sir, and you will
confer a favour on me indeed."

The chaplain approached Ellen, who lay on the deck in a state of mental
stupefaction, and, addressing her in mild accents, persuaded her to rise
and take a seat on the form; he kindly contrived to bring it forward to
the iron-grated port, so that she could not witness the motions of
Peters, and, with a low, yet energetic an