“I’m sure he would make you go to London for your own good. But not a word will I spake till I have your permission to do so.” “Thank you, O’Hara: I am sure we shall be good friends.” “You may bet your life on that! You are a broth of a boy, with five or six millions, more or less, in your trousers-pocket; and you may depind upon it, I’ll stick to you like a brother,” said O’Hara, with a wild laugh. “Don’t consider me an heir till we have further information. But we were very good friends before I read this message to you.” “Faix, we were!” The conversation was continued till the two officers were called to attend to their duties, when the first part of the watch was relieved. The following week was spent at Seville, and then the squadron returned to Gibraltar. The vessels had hardly anchored before Mr. Lowington’s agent came off with a mail for the students and others on board. There was a letter for Tom Speers. He put it into his pocket without stopping to read it, though not till he had seen that the post-mark was London. This was the letter alluded to in the telegraphic despatch; and doubtless it contained full particulars of the death of his uncle, and an explanation of the reason why he was summoned to London. Tom was not inclined to read it, for he did not wish to be told of any thing that would call him away from the Tritonia. His ambition was thoroughly aroused, and he was resolved to win the highest position in the vessel. All who had received letters from home were busy reading them, and the discipline of the squadron was sufficiently relaxed to permit them to do so without interruption; but Tom Speers put his letter into his pocket. O’Hara had news from home, and he was busy digesting it, so that he could not speak to him about his affairs. He felt the need of counsel, while he dreaded to receive it lest it should oblige him to abandon the Tritonia and the brilliant hopes of the future. Perhaps his uncle had left him a fortune, for there were a dozen fortunes in the vast pile of wealth the dead man had left behind him. It was even probable, in Tom’s estimation, that he had done so, for he had been named after his uncle; and, if he did not care for his nephew, he might desire to have his name live after he could no longer bear it except upon the costly monument that marked his last resting-place. The young man felt no deep affection for his uncle, and had no great respect for his memory. A few thousands given to his mother while she was pinching herself to bring up her boy would have been better than as many hundred thousands to him now that she was gone.