“Very respectfully, “Manuel Velasquez.” Willis was mortified to think the old Spaniard believed he was actuated by any hope of gain when he saved Francisca; and had he been able, would at once have returned him the money. But, situated as he now was, to return it at once was impossible. So, replacing the cover on the box, and putting it in his chest, he took from his breast the package given him by Francisca in the dungeon, which his constant occupation had prevented him as yet from examining. Undoing the wrapper, he found the bundle contained nothing but Portuguese papers, regularly authenticated for a vessel exactly of the size and build of the Maraposa. In vain he looked amongst their folds, and on them, for a note, or even a line, from the fair donor, but nothing of the kind was to be seen; and disappointed, he scarce knew why, for he had not the slightest reason to expect any thing of the kind, he sat down by the cabin table, and with his face buried in his hands, the following thoughts, reflections, and resolutions, passed through his mind. For some time the image of Francisca usurped his thoughts. He felt confident she took a more tender interest in his welfare than she had expressed; for there is a species of clairvoyance in love, that enables one to see things that are meant to be hidden; and though gratitude had been assigned as the cause of her efforts in delivering him from death, he believed it was only an excuse, and his heart warmed with love as he thought of her. With the long frozen springs of his better feelings thus thawed by tender sentiments, the kind and impressive lessons of virtue that had been inculcated by his departed mother, and which had been allowed to slumber in forgetfulness for many years, now all distinctly and forcibly presented themselves; and the hardened slaver, the stern man, shed bitter tears, as he thought of the happy days of his youth, and the slight regard he had paid to the teachings of his once dearly loved parent. It seemed as if a veil had been removed from his sight; and he now saw, in all its deformity, his present course of life, and the desire became strong within him to reform. He now had an object to strive for—the possession of Francisca’s love. But how was he to begin? All he possessed in the world was his vessel, and the money on board of Don Manuel’s. He could not hope to win the consent of the proud Spaniard, even if his daughter was willing, while he was poor. He knew no profession but that of ploughing the deep; and as merchant captain, who would employ him?