He left a little orphan girl, in whom the remnant of my heart was wrapped; her grandfather took her from me; she was sent to England, and, if she yet survives, and is in the virtues of her mind, what she promised to be in the beauties of her person, she is an angel. Would I might see her once before I die! Tell me her name, said De Lancaster, and instantly, as Anderton pronounced Amelia Jones, our astonished hero threw himself back on the couch, smote his hands together and with uplifted eyes exclaimed--Just Heaven, how wonderful are thy decrees! The explanation, that ensued, would be superfluous to relate; it filled up the time till the hour of dinner put an end to it. Devereux’s provisions furnished out an excellent repast, and the sea-air supplied an appetite. Anderton fed heartily, and the languor of his countenance yielded to the joint effects of cordial diet, and that elevation of spirits, which the conversation of De Lancaster and Wilson had inspired him with. After a glass or two of delicious wine had gone temperately round, the cabin was cleared; all, who had charge of the ship, repaired to their duty on the deck, and the three passengers were left at liberty to resume their conversation. CHAPTER V. _John De Lancaster and Wilson arrive at Kray Castle._ From the preceding Chapter it appears that John De Lancaster had made known to Anderton the situation of Amelia Jones, and that gentleman no sooner found himself in private with his new friends, than, turning to our hero, he said--The hopes, you have held out to me of beholding the relick of my dear-loved friend, inspire me with new life, and I will not despair but that the clear air of Wales may keep my waining lamp alive a little longer. At least I’ll give the experiment a chance, for though I don’t fear death, simply considered as a dismission from this world, yet I would most devoutly wish to fit myself for it as my passport to the world to come. For that, alas! I have made no preparation. Of my religion I am supremely ignorant; I have had no church, no pastor to instruct me. I scarce know why and by what right I call myself a Christian: I must believe I ought to understand the book of duties, that is open to me; but where is the instructor? Nothing can be too much for me to give, could I but find that charitable man, who patiently and piously would teach me rightly to know and reverence my God, or ere I am summoned to appear before him. The tomb itself can be no darker than my ignorant mind; he whose instruction will throw light on that, will merit all the uses of my fortune, on which there is not in this world one, who by affinity or friendship has the slightest claim, now that Amelia Jones is so disposed of.