Supper was then put upon the table, and the four persons above mentioned sat down, for a few minutes in silence. Jacques, the captain of the East-Indiaman, looked moody and thoughtful. He said not a word. Suddenly, however, he was roused by hearing the young surgeon of the _Jeune Sophie_ speak. 'Madeleine,' said he, in a gentle but still much agitated tone of voice, 'how is it I find you here--you whom I left at St Omer?' 'Is this, then, the Madeleine you so often speak of?' cried the astonished sailor. 'It is. But speak, my dear friend.' 'Edouard, I am here because yonder is my father, and it is my duty to be where he is.' 'But why is your father here?' continued the other. 'I am here,' said the old man, fiercely turning round, 'because I am at war with the world. For a trifling error, I was dismissed the command of this very _Jeune Sophie_ twelve years ago. I vowed revenge, and you see the kind of revenge I have selected.' 'Dear father,' said Madeleine gently, 'see what an escape you have had!' 'Besides,' interposed Jacques, 'there was no occasion for revenge. M. Ponceau, who had adopted me, searched for you far and wide, to give you another ship. They dismissed you in a moment of anger. They proved this, by giving me the command of the _Jeune Sophie_ as soon as I could be trusted with it.' 'What is done is done,' said Pierre, 'and I am a wrecker! I have done wrong, but I am punished. Jacques, my boy, take away Madeleine; I see this life is not fit for her. If I recover, I shall remain, and become the trader of the village'---- 'No, father, you must come with us,' observed Jacques sadly. 'You and I and Madeleine will find some quiet spot, where none will know of the past, and where we ourselves may learn to forget. I have already saved enough to support us.' 'And your wife, sir?' said the young lady, who had not hitherto spoken. 'Leonie, you can never marry me now. You are no fit mate for the son of a wrecker.' 'Jacques,' interposed the young surgeon, 'neither you nor Madeleine has any right to suffer for the errors of your father. I made the acquaintance of your sister at my aunt's school in St Omer. I loved her; and before I started on this journey, I had from her a half-promise, which I now call upon her to fulfil.' 'What say you, Madeleine?' said Jacques gravely. 'That I can never give my hand to a man whom I love too well to dishonour.' 'Madeleine, you are right, and you are a noble girl!' replied her brother. 'Children,' said the old man, with a groan, 'I see my crime now in its full hideousness; but I can at least repair part of the evil done. Now, listen to me. Let me see you follow the bent of your hearts, and be happy, and I will go where you will, for you will have forgiven your father. Refuse to do so, and I remain here--once a wrecker, always a wrecker. Come, decide!'