“She was like a sister to you, was she not, Carl?” Harris said, kindly, laying his hand upon the boy’s head. A deep sigh was his only answer, and the boy turned away. Then drawing a richly-chased knife from a wrought case by his side, he lifted one of the long ringlets from her dress, and turned a beseeching look upon Harris. “You may have it, Carl,” he answered to the boy’s look; and the bright, polished steel glanced in among the waving hair, until only the gold tipped haft was visible. “What will you do with that, signor?” Carl said, pointing to the paper. Harris glanced over it, and then read aloud: “Bury me not by the water’s edge, Away in my dear old home, Nor in the shade of the pure white cliff, Where the screaming sea-gulls come. But away, away, on the high hill’s brow, Where the dark trees darker wave, Ye have found for me a stranger home,-- O, give me a stranger grave!” “I have no one but you to advise me, Carl; now tell me what to do,” Harris said. Carl looked out at the glowing western sky, and said: “She will be better pleased if we will comply with her last request; we will bury her here.” Harris only smiled at the boy’s reply and he went on: “Will you give her to the cold earth decked so showily? That brilliant, silken, flattering dress, and those richly-gleaming pearls, are too earthly for death’s bridal, are they not?” “It makes very little difference what the poor frail body wears, Carl,” Harris answered, mournfully. “We will bury her as she is.” He did not stop to count the cost of the dress she wore. There were plenty more of the same kind in the cases. Then he placed her in the delicately-wrought coffin, only unclasping a single bracelet from her rigid arm, to be kept as a remembrance of that dark day. After that the men saw, or imagined, that Harris grew more stern and changeless in his work, and more thoughtful in his life, than before. One night, when they were preparing to leave, he said, “The suspicion of the colony is aroused; we must keep it up.” Then taking a slip of paper from his portmanteau, he wrote an order upon it and read it aloud. It was for a certain amount of handcuffs, hatchets and chains, to be left at a specified place in the wood, where a quantity of silver, to their full value, would be found in their stead. “Which of you will lay this beside the central forge in the foundery tonight?” he asked, carelessly. The men drew back, and an involuntary shudder appeared to pass from one to the other. Is was the first time such a subject had been broached. Force had never been used with them, and they apparently dreaded the thought of it. “Stand up, my brave men,” said Harris, bitterly; “let me see how many cowards our crew numbers.” Instantly, as though struck by an electric shock, the eight powerful men rose to their feet, and eight strong right hands grasped the sword-hilts by their sides.