‘Well, I will try, at all events, to fulfil the last clause. My cousin Egerton, who was a rich tradesman, has left me all his property. I have land and houses in Barbadoes, and I intend to settle there; at least, for the next few years. You must come and live with me. You will find plenty of work on the estate to employ your time, if you wish to work; and if you wish to rest, you shall be idle. My father has been dead in reality for many years past, so that we shall be left alone and in peace this time to end our days together.’ ‘And there is no one else, my dear boy?’ inquired Williams anxiously. ‘How do you mean?’ ‘You are not married, nor likely to be?’ ‘I am not married, nor likely to be. There is no one else,’ repeated Richard Egerton, with a bitter sigh. ‘Don’t sigh like that, sir.’ ‘Dickey, please, Caleb.’ ‘Dickey, then—my little Dickey, as I loved so hearty. To think I should have found you again arter all these years—grow’d to such a fine man, too—and in that awful storm! It beats everythink I ever heard of.’ ‘Whatever is, is best,’ replied Egerton. ‘You won’t grumble again, will you, Caleb, because the answer to your prayer may be delayed a little?’ ‘Don’t mention it, my boy. I feels ashamed even to remember it.’ ‘You see that even the hurricane has borne its good fruit as well as its evil. Without it we might never have been made known to each other.’ ‘It’s bin a marciful interposition of Providence from beginning to end,’ said old Williams, wiping his eyes. ‘But I should like to see you a bit more cheerful, Dickey. There has been a sad look in your face the last four days, which I couldn’t help noticin’, and now that I knows you to be who you are, I sha’n’t rest satisfied till you smiles in the old way again.’ Egerton was just about to answer him, when a gentle knock sounded on the cabin door, which stood ajar in consequence of the heat. ‘Who’s that?’ demanded the old sailor gruffly. ‘It is only I,’ responded a soft, trembling voice, which Egerton at once recognised as that of Amy Herbert. ‘I came to inquire how Mr Egerton is getting on, and if I can do anything for him.’ ‘No, miss, thank ye, you can’t do nothin’; he’s a-goin’ on very nicely, and I’m here,’ responded Williams. ‘May I speak to him for a minute?’ ‘Oh yes,’ said Richard eagerly, raising himself to a sitting position. The young lady pushed open the cabin door and stood on the threshold, blushing like a rose. She looked very beautiful, although her eyes were swollen with crying, and her dress and hair were in disorder. ‘I felt I could not sleep until I had thanked you for what you did for me, Mr Egerton,’ she uttered tearfully. ‘You endangered your own life to save mine, who have done nothing to deserve such a sacrifice on your part.’ ‘Ay, that he did!’ interrupted Williams. ‘It is nothing—nothing,’ said Egerton faintly, for the sight of her had upset all his courage. ‘You could not help it. It is not your fault if—if—’