William Penn received the young man very kindly, and then for some minutes spoke to him with deep seriousness of his past life. "Thou canst not serve God and Mammon, Friend Wenlock," he said. "Thou didst attempt to do so, and Mammon left thee struggling for thy life on the ocean. More on that matter I need not say." Wenlock, on reaching home, found that his friends had been deeply impressed by the addresses they had heard. They were also much surprised to find that two of the speakers were known to him. "Indeed, one of them," he said, "is a very old friend; and should he invite me to accompany him to England, I should wish to do so." "What! and leave us all here, not to return?" said Gretchen. "It is right that I should tell the truth at once," thought Wenlock. He did so. "And is this English girl very, very pretty," asked Gretchen; and her voice trembled slightly. "I thought her so when we parted; and amiable, and right-minded, and pious I know she is." "Ah!" said Gretchen, "I should like to see her while she remains in this city." The next morning Wenlock set out to pay his promised visit to his Quaker friends. Master Mead met him at the door of the house. "Come in; Mary will see thee," he said; and taking him upstairs, he led him into a room, at the farther end of which a young lady was seated with a book before her. She rose as her father and their visitor entered, and gave an inquiring glance at Wenlock, apparently at first scarcely knowing him. Another look assured her who it was, but no smile lighted up her countenance. She advanced, however, and held out her hand. "Thou art welcome, Master Christison," she said; "and I rejoice to find that thou didst escape the sad fate we heard had overtaken thee. And yet, was it kind to leave old friends who were interested in thee, albeit thou didst differ from them in opinion, without knowing of thy existence?" Her voice, which had hitherto remained firm, began to tremble. "Oh, no, no, Mary!" exclaimed Wenlock. "I cannot blame myself too much. Yet I did write; but I ought to have written again and again, till I heard from you. I should have known that the risk of a letter miscarrying was very great." "Yea; verily thou ought to have put more confidence in us," said Mary. Then Wenlock again blamed himself, and Mary showed herself before long inclined to be more lenient than her manner had at first led him to hope she might prove.